Of This, I Am Sure
by jamie2109
Summary: Set directly after HBP. Harry and Draco are forced to spend a few days together. As a result, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am just having some fun making them play with each other.

**A/N: This is a story written for an exchange fest, using a prompt that wanted the start of a relationship between Harry and Draco. It is four chapters long, (about 20,000 words) and there is a 10,000 word sequel which will be posted as further chapters to this. For those of you looking for a Post HBP Horcrux hunting story, this little tale does not go there. This is only the story of how Harry and Draco start something. ****That said, the sequel is set post-war. So, sit back in your seats and enjoy the ride. **

* * *

_His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione._ **(Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.)**

**Chapter 1. **

Because, no matter what they said, Harry was not taking them with him on this journey. He was going to do this alone, despite having no idea where the rest of the Horcruxes were, or even _what_ some of them were.

He'd told Ron and Hermione that he thought he would go back to Godric's Hollow and he would, just not right away. Nor would he grace his Aunt and Uncle's house with his presence immediately. Not that they would even notice - in fact, even if they did notice he wasn't there, they would be pleased rather than worried. And as much as he despised them, their protection had kept him alive long enough so that he had finally come to the point in his life where he felt charged with the confidence that sooner or later he would win. Beat Voldemort …no, kill him this time, and at last be able to live his own life. For that, he was grateful to them, and the bitterness he'd grown up with had resolved itself into a resigned acceptance.

No, he was not going to be at any of the expected places. This journey that he was making on his own was his to make. As much as he could, he was going to keep his friends out of it. He had no doubt that sooner or later they would find out where he was and catch up with him, but the longer that took the better. He'd lost quite enough people that he cared for in this war as it was, without adding any more to the list.

So, with Hogwarts closing down once the students left in an hour or so, Harry could think of no more appropriate place to be. It had always been that way, ever since he had first seen it. It may not be completely safe - in fact, many of Harry's life or death adventures had occurred right here on the school grounds, but he felt safe here. It was home in a way that no other place had ever been.

He was staying right here.

At Hogwarts.

He'd previously packed his trunk with everything he felt he would not need. The most important things were in a knapsack sitting on his bed – some clothing, his map and his Invisibility Cloak. The house elves would forward his trunk on, and where that ended up, he didn't care. He had entrusted Hedwig to the Weasley's, ostensibly until he went to the Burrow for the wedding, and despite her having given Harry a disgusted look and pointedly ignored him afterward, Harry knew that Hedwig would be well cared for.

As the three of them were still talking, Professor McGonagall approached them, her face bleached white with grief and pinched with sadness, but she was seemingly determined to hold herself together, Harry noticed.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," she greeted them, nodding. "Potter, I've been asked to inform you that The Order will be taking no chances with your safety. They –" she closed her eyes and took a breath. "We have made arrangements for you to Floo directly to Arabella Figg's, and she will accompany you to your relatives, where you will stay for the foreseeable future, with the exception of the wedding. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded. There was no reason to upset her with his change of plans. He'd been prepared for The Order to do something as misguided as this to try to ensure his safety, but Harry had learnt that he was not entirely safe anywhere. Still, they did what they could and they needed to be made to feel useful. At this point there was not a lot they could do, apart from try to protect what they had. "Yes, Professor," he replied, ignoring the looks from Hermione and Ron, Hermione no doubt having an attack of guilt about lying to a Professor. "From Professor D- your office, then?"

"I will meet you there in twenty minutes, Potter. Do not be late." She gave them all another look and a nod, and looked prepared to say something else. In the end, she laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder and left the three of them to themselves.

"Harry, you can't lie to her!" Hermione whirled on him the moment Professor McGonagall was out of earshot.

"I can and I did," Harry replied, firm determination back in his voice, but not liking lying to Hermione either.

.o0o.

Ten minutes later, after Harry had said goodbye to his friends, telling them he would see them at the Burrow for the wedding and having flown up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower to grab his knapsack, he was now standing in Professor Dumbledore's old office. There was no way he was waiting for Professor McGonagall to send him through the Floo to Mrs. Figg's, but there was a portrait of Dumbledore hanging alongside all the other portraits of past Headmasters. He wanted a word with Dumbledore, if he was up to it. Besides, he needed to leave a message for Professor McGonagall so she would think he had gone on ahead early.

Staring up at the portrait, Harry saw that the Professor Dumbledore in it had not moved since he had seen him the last time. He was still slumbering in the chair, as it seemed, were the rest of the figures in the other portraits lining the office walls. Harry had no idea how magical portraits worked, but he wondered if perhaps their portrait selves needed time to adjust to being dead.

"I wish you could talk to me and tell me that I'm doing the right thing, Professor," Harry whispered, not wanting to wake the other portraits. A final blessing would have been nice, but Harry felt that what he was doing was right and was determined.

There were parchment and quills on the desk, and Harry quickly left Professor McGonagall a note, telling her that he had decided not to wait for her, but had already left via the Floo. A part of him wanted to thank her for taking such good care of him through his six years here, as he wasn't sure when, or indeed if, he would ever see her again. But in the end he didn't; she might become suspicious.

Just as he was signing his name to the note, a voice broke through the silence.

"Harry, my boy," it said.

Dumbledore!

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, swinging around to the portrait to see the old man sitting up much straighter in his chair and looking fondly at him. "Sir…"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "There is little time. I must tell you something that may help. You must not believe the worst of Professor Snape. He was acting under my orders; he could still be of use to you."

"I'll never believe anything that comes out of that man's mouth," Harry snarled, aware that he was being disrespectful to Professor Dumbledore, but unable to keep the scathing disgust from his voice. How could he expect Harry to trust Snape after all that he had done?

"You must make your own choices of course, Harry, but if you trust me at all, then please take heed of my words." There was none of the old twinkling Dumbledore now, Harry saw. This was serious, and Harry calmed slightly, not prepared to change his stance, but prepared to listen at least.

Dumbledore seemed to look off toward the door. "Unfortunately, there is no time to go into detail, someone is coming, and if I assume correctly then you do not want to be found here. One last thing, Harry, before you go," Dumbledore said quickly. At his words, Harry already had his Invisibility Cloak out from his bag and was swirling it around himself, just his head still visible.

"Yes, Professor?"

"If you should come across young Mr. Malfoy in your search for the remaining Horcruxes, remember the offer of protection I made to him. He doesn't need to be another victim of Voldemort, Harry."

Harry nodded. He'd already decided that if Malfoy was back with Voldemort he would be punished enough already for failing his mission. If he were still alive, that is. He doubted that he would see Malfoy again, but if he did he wouldn't kill him on sight. Turn him over to the Order maybe, but Malfoy would be alive when he did so.

"Yes, Professor. Goodbye," Harry said, bringing the cloak up over his head, a lump in his throat, now. He was hoping that once Hogwarts was closed and the school locked up, that the wards and passwords would not be changed and he would be able to come back and talk to Dumbledore again.

"Take care, Harry, I have faith in you," were the last words Harry heard before the door to the office opened and Professor McGonagall entered. He stayed just long enough to ensure that she found the note, and he heard her muttering about impatient children as he slipped through the door. At least she wasn't suspicious. And obviously, Dumbledore didn't 'know' everything, as he had no idea that Harry was staying in the school, though he would soon enough.

For two days after the students left, Harry stayed secreted in the Room of Requirement, only venturing out under his Invisibility Cloak to try to ascertain what was happening with the staff after the closing of the school. The room he'd set up was simple - just a bed and sitting area as well as a bathroom. It was basic, but all he needed, and he dubbed it 'Harry's Room' so that he could easily come and go as he pleased.

Once the Professors had all left and the castle was eerily quiet, devoid of the usual noises, where even the ghosts seemed to have deserted the place; Harry still made use of the Cloak. Filch and his horrid cat were still prowling around, but Harry supposed even he would be leaving eventually. Further, the walls had eyes in this castle and it would not do for the portraits to be talking to each other about Harry still being in the school and pass it on to someone that had access to Order headquarters.

He'd spent most of the last two days planning what to do. He planned on staying at Hogwarts for a short while, until it was safe to leave, before using one of the secret tunnels to get beyond the wards and Apparate where he needed to go. After he left he didn't plan on coming back, unless it was an emergency and he needed a safe place to be for a while.

Godric's Hollow was first on his list; somehow it felt like the thing to do. It was where everything for him had begun; it was where _he _should begin, too. Not that he knew what he was looking for or what answers he expected to find there, he just knew that that was where he needed to start. If nothing else, it was where he'd feel close to his mum and dad and gather some inner strength from their memories.

Visiting there would have to wait a week or so, though. When Mrs. Figg told the Order that Harry hadn't turned up at her place, Godric's Hollow would be the first place they looked. In their concern for him, Hermione and Ron would tell where he'd planned on going. He wished that he'd been able to make a better plan, but there it was and it would have to do. As long as he had the advantage of the Room of Requirement, then he would be safe enough.

And Dobby. Despite the fact that Dobby worked for Professor Dumbledore…actually, Harry reflected with a pang, he wondered who exactly Dobby worked for now. He had no understanding of what happened to a House Elf when their master died, but he supposed that Dobby had been employed to work at Hogwarts and there he would stay. Luckily for Harry, Dobby had always been loyal to him and therefore had agreed to supply him with food regularly and to keep his presence a secret.

At the moment he was going around the school, testing all the tunnel entrances to ensure that they still worked and were accessible. Not much point in staying at Hogwarts unless he could come and go as he pleased without detection. The first one on his list was the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack.

In the moonlight he could see the dark outline of the Whomping Willow, tall and somehow still menacing. As he walked towards it under his Invisibility Cloak, he wondered if the tree was able to sense him through the cloak.

Just as he approached, a figure emerged from the entrance at the base of the tree. Harry froze, despite being invisible. No one was supposed to be on the school grounds. Who was it? Was it a Death Eater? Had someone discovered that he was still at the school and sent someone to kill him? Or to take him to his relatives? He took a step backwards and stepped on a twig, the cracking loud in the quiet of the night. The stealthy figure turned towards the sound as if startled and just as nervous as Harry. He saw a wand being raised, and could almost hear the other's increased breathing. His own heart had sped up with the fear of being discovered. What panicked him more was that when the figure turned to the sound, he got quite a clear look at who it was.

Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy was right here? How did that happen? Why? A hundred questions went through Harry's mind, but the most prominent thought was that he had to capture Malfoy. Followed shortly thereafter by the intriguing thought that perhaps Dumbledore knew more than Harry thought he did. The irony of Dumbledore speaking of Malfoy and then Harry _finding_ Malfoy did not escape him. Harry's wand was in his hand in a moment, clenched tightly around it, ready.

_"Stupefy," _Harry said, whipping off his cloak and firing off the spell before Malfoy even had a chance to recognise who it was.

Malfoy dropped to the ground, stunned, and Harry moved carefully over to him, looking down into the pointed face with a mixture of anger, frustration and curiosity. Where had Malfoy been since he Apparated the night Dumbledore died? Wherever it was, it mattered little; he was Harry's captive now, and at the first opportunity he would turn Malfoy over to The Order.

Damn Malfoy, why did he have to turn up now?

Because Harry couldn't turn him over to the Order just yet; he didn't want to give away that he was still here at Hogwarts. And whatever plan he came up with, Malfoy was sure to tell them, either of his own accord or under the influence of _Veritaserum._ Bugger. The thought of Obliviating Malfoy and then dropping him at Order Headquarters crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. He had no stomach for altering someone's mind. It felt immoral somehow. Yes, the Ministry used it quite freely, he remembered from the Quidditch World Cup, when the Ministry Obliviated the Muggle park owner. But he'd felt faintly ill and uncomfortable about that at the time. He would just have to keep Malfoy in the Room of Requirement with him until it was time for him to leave for good. Bloody hell.

Harry quickly levitated Malfoy vertical and draped his Invisibility Cloak around both of them awkwardly, thankful that Malfoy was no taller than he. The cloak definitely wasn't meant to be covering something as inflexible as Malfoy was right now. However, Harry managed to cover them both, and slowly he made his way back to the school.

Once inside his room, Harry set Malfoy down, laying him on the couch. He confiscated Malfoy's wand and stowed it in his knapsack before using his own wand to bind Malfoy's hands and feet.

Rather than _Enervate _him immediately, Harry took the chance to observe Malfoy more closely. He certainly looked like he had not been living in the comfort to which he was assumedly used. Malfoy's face was even more pinched and pale than the last time he had seen him. It was streaked with dirt, his normally perfectly groomed hair tangled and grimy, and there were big black circles around his eyes. Harry's hand itched to make those black circles under his eyes darker by punching him a few times, but he refrained. Malfoy looked pathetic enough as it was.

It would serve Malfoy right though, if Harry beat him to within an inch of his life. The number of people's lives he had put in danger through his actions meant Malfoy was no longer an innocent. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched Malfoy and his fist curled once more. Ron and Katie had almost died; he'd let Death Eaters into the school, along with Fenrir Greyback, who had left Bill Weasley with terrible disfiguring scars for life. Malfoy deserved to suffer.

But, in the end, Harry only took a few deep breaths and reminded himself that Malfoy had been operating under threat of Voldemort killing him and his family. Which didn't leave him blameless, not by a long shot, but it did quell Harry's desire for vengeance. Up to a point. Besides, if he was going to beat Malfoy to a pulp, he'd rather the prick be awake when he did it.

"_Finite Incantatem_." Harry waved his wand at Malfoy, cast _Enervate_ a second later, and stepped back to watch the boy revive. It was almost comical, really. Malfoy's eyes opened and blinked, and obviously Harry wasn't in his line of vision, because Malfoy looked at the ceiling, turned his eyes sideways to look at the back of the couch he was lying on, and made a relieved sort of sound. One that signified that he thought he was somewhere safe. Then of course he found that his arms were bound, as were his legs, and he began to struggle, face furious and panicked all at once.

Harry did laugh then, and Malfoy immediately went still and closed his eyes as if recognising the laugh. Then, when he had taken a breath and collected himself, he turned cool grey eyes to Harry and barked "Get these off me, Potter!"

"Right. You think I'm letting you free? I don't think so, Malfoy."

Malfoy began to struggle once more, trying to free his wrists from the bindings. "Potter, I swear that as soon as I get free of these, I'll fucking make you pay for this!" Malfoy's face was a picture of rage.

Harry watched as the heated flush of anger on Malfoy's cheeks spread to his throat and neck, and it looked so startling against the normal pallor of his skin that Harry wondered if it was as hot to the touch as it looked. Blinking the thought away, he sneered instead.

"Sure you will. I have your wand. What are you doing back here anyway? Thought you'd be tucked up with your good buddy Snape, laughing over how you got away with it."

"Well, seeing as I don't know where here is…" Malfoy grunted, still trying to free his wrists, but Harry had done the bindings up good and tight and he could see the flaming red marks around Malfoy's pale, bony wrists. "You'll excuse me if I don't answer that stupid question. As if I'd tell you anyway."

"We're at Hogwarts," Harry told him. "Why aren't you with Snape?" he asked again. It suddenly struck Harry that Malfoy didn't look like he had seen a bath or a comb since he'd left Hogwarts. Was it possible that he hadn't gone with Snape?

Malfoy slumped back on the couch, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He'd stopped struggling against the bindings and closed his eyes, seeming to calm himself down. "Remove these and I'll tell you," he tried, but Harry was having none of it.

"No, you tell me why you're here and where you have been since you left the school, and then I'll consider untying you."

"What are you going to do with me?" Malfoy asked, turning his eyes back to Harry's. They had a faint look of worry around the edges, Harry saw. Worry and exhaustion.

"Depends on what you tell me," Harry said, deliberately hiding the fact that he was going to keep Malfoy right here in this room. He didn't relish the thought of living in such close quarters with Malfoy, but his need for secrecy outweighed his distaste. He would just have to put up with it. If Malfoy got too annoying, he could always just gag him and tie him up. He quite liked the idea of Malfoy tied up, he thought as he watched the blond still trying spasmodically to free himself.

A frown of anguish crossed Malfoy's face before it disappeared to be replaced by one of resignation. "I couldn't go back…to him."

"Why not?" Harry shot back.

Malfoy looked up at him in exasperation. "Why do you think? I failed! I fucking failed, Potter! A Death Eater doesn't last long if they fail the Dark Lord."

"You didn't come here to find me and take me back to him?"

"No." Malfoy shook his head. "I don't think I would do that now, even if you tied yourself up and told me to. Not after what he put me through this year. He's a madman."

"You have his mark?" Harry asked.

Malfoy lifted his arm and the sleeve of his torn robe fell back and there it was. Stark and black against Malfoy's pale skin: Harry almost shivered just looking at it.

"What will you do if he calls you? I know that the marks burn."

Malfoy shrugged. "Ignore it. Put up with it. Why do you care?"

"I care because you might decide that the pain is too much to ignore and give in to him. And take me back with you, when you go," Harry retorted.

"Look," Malfoy began heatedly, "I didn't do what I had to this year because I wanted to, Potter. I had no fucking choice! I was hoping to stay out of it all – that fucker scares the shit out of me, but… What would YOU do to save your family?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and Harry left unsaid that there was always a choice. You might not like what the alternatives were, but there was always a choice. Still, it did feel like there were things that one had no choice over, and protecting family to the best of your ability was always a dominant one.

"So, what about your mother, then? Won't he kill her like he threatened?"

Malfoy's face crumpled and he nodded. "How did you know about that?"

"I was there when you told Dumbledore," Harry replied, a sliver of understanding in his voice. As Malfoy rolled his eyes and dropped his head back on the couch, Harry continued.

"So, where have you been? On the run?"

In a very small voice, sounding like someone who had lost everything, Malfoy told him.

"I didn't Apparate with Snape that night. Instead, I took off into the Forest and have been in there ever since. I've hidden from bloody Centaurs, fought great bloody spiders and watched as that half-breed giant, Hagrid talked to another bloody giant. I ate what I could find and slept when I could. Which wasn't much." Malfoy shifted around on the couch, slumped and looking as lost as his voice sounded. "Now, if you don't mind, just hand me over to the fucking Ministry and be done with it. I don't care anymore."

And to Harry's astonishment, Malfoy began to cry. Although why he should be surprised, he didn't know, he'd come across Malfoy crying once before. There was no sound from Malfoy as he cried, just tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Not being particularly good with comforting crying people, Harry didn't move or say anything, just watched and used the time to process what he'd heard. So, Malfoy was on the run from Voldemort; actually, he was on the run from everyone, as the Ministry would likely try him as a Death Eater and he'd be given the Kiss in Azkaban.

And why did he believe him? There was no reason not to. No one knew Harry was at Hogwarts still, and therefore Malfoy was not coming for him. The castle was basically deserted; there could be no one else that Malfoy was on a mission to kill. Plus, he seemed to know about Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother, and only a few people had known that he was in the Forbidden Forest. It only followed that Malfoy must have been in the Forest as he claimed.

It seemed they were both hiding, then.

Harry aimed his wand and released the bindings from Malfoy's wrists and ankles. As the boy shot up in surprise and began to rub his wrists, Harry met his questioning eyes sympathetically.

"I'm not turning you into the Ministry. Not yet, anyway. You'll tell them where I am, and I have no need for their interference in what I have to do."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "Saint Potter on the run? I don't believe it."

Harry actually laughed at that. "Not on the run as such, just avoiding any Ministry blunders. That and trying not to get my friends killed in this bloody war."

He was glad that Malfoy bit back a response. It showed that he, too, had been thinking about the situation. "Why did you come back to Hogwarts, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Safety, really," Malfoy replied, still rubbing at red raw wrists. "I saw everyone leaving and assumed that the school had closed after Professor Dum-" He broke off with a grimace and Harry had to think that perhaps he did feel guilt over his part in Dumbledore's death after all.

Harry nodded. "Well, the staff have all left, apart from Filch and Mrs. Norris. There are the house- elves of course, but the main problem is the portraits. I'm pretty sure that their network of communication is the way in which Dumbledore seemed to always know what was going on in the castle."

"So, where are we in the castle then?" Malfoy looked around at the room, thinking, and Harry didn't need to answer him, as shortly his gaze fell back on him in realisation. "Oh."

Harry stood and moved to stand in front of Malfoy. "Look, I don't like you and you don't like me," he began, and ignored the answering smirk from Malfoy, "but we both have our reasons for not being found by anyone, and I'm thinking that if you can keep from making me want to hex you every time you open your mouth, then you can stay here with me."

"I'm not on your side, Potter," Malfoy flashed back. "I'll not be helping you or anything," he warned.

"I don't expect you to help me, but if you plan to ever leave this room before I'm ready to leave the castle for good, then you had better behave yourself." Harry shot back. He was prepared to bind Malfoy every time he left the room if it came to that, but he didn't think so. Malfoy had much stronger reasons than Harry for remaining undetected.

"Fine," Malfoy acknowledged after a while. "Do I get my wand back?"

Harry shook his head, "No, that's my insurance that you won't leave the castle on your own."

Sighing, Malfoy nodded. "Looks like you've got yourself a room mate, Potter," he said, false cheer in his voice. "Is there anything to eat around here?"

"I've already eaten, but I'll ask Dobby to bring you something." Harry replied. "Dobby!" he called and with a crack, the small house-elf appeared. Harry gave instructions for food and Dobby jumped from one foot to the other, likely in glee at being able to serve Harry Potter. Harry also told Dobby that Malfoy was going to be staying at Hogwarts with Harry and that his presence was also to be kept a secret. Dobby looked at Malfoy, frightened for a moment, then nodded and popped away, to return in a few moments with trays of food.

Malfoy dug in immediately, obviously ravenous, while Harry busied himself by heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. It was while he was stripped off and looking for his pyjama pants in the pile of clothes on the hamper that he looked up and saw in the mirror that he had forgotten to close the door. Being on his own up until now, he'd not bothered.

He stilled in shock, as he could also see through the door and into the living area. Malfoy was looking at him, fork poised mid way to his mouth, which was slightly open. If Malfoy was embarrassed catching Harry naked, he didn't show it and Harry was used to being naked in front of his dorm mates and Quidditch team mates in the showers after a game, so he wasn't particularly fazed by having Malfoy see him naked, either.

However, it was Malfoy's stillness and the fact that Malfoy had not just glanced at him and looked away in disgust, nor had he let his gaze wander up and down Harry's body first before turning away, that made his skin prickle with something akin to goose bumps. No, it was that Malfoy's eyes had lingered over his arse. Time seemed to stand still, then, as Harry watched Malfoy watching his arse. Words he should say never made it past his lips. He should tell Malfoy to stop staring, or move and slam the door, or ask him if he liked what he saw. But he didn't say a word or move until Malfoy's continued inspection of his bottom made Harry's muscles flinch. Then, Malfoy let his eyelids flutter closed, and the spell was broken.

Harry blushed furiously, grabbed his pyjama bottoms and threw them on as quickly as possible. He caught sight of his own face in the mirror, saw how flushed he was and knew he couldn't go back out there just yet. Why the fuck had he just done that? Why hadn't he shut the door? And why for fuck's sake had he liked it? His questioning eyes met themselves in the mirror and had no answers for him either.

He was used to people fawning over him because of his name. He had always chafed under the scrutiny of both well-wishers and those who were out to do him harm. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if he was being tested, judged and would be found wanting. Malfoy's little eye flutter had indicated that he was anything but found wanting. No, he told himself, it was just an accident, a trick of the light. Malfoy was tired and half starved and…and a sneaking, evil little arrogant bastard who had had, until this year, making Harry's life hell as his chief mission in life.

Harry breathed a little easier after that reminder of just who Malfoy was and why he hated him so much. Their temporary truce wouldn't change a thing. Right, then. Harry took a last look at himself in the mirror before he turned and left the bathroom, acting as if nothing had happened. Because of course, nothing had. Right.

Malfoy didn't meet his eyes when Harry sat down on the couch beside him, obviously concentrating on finishing the last of his meal. "The bathroom's free. I expect you'll want a shower. Dobby will collect your clothes from Slytherin for you and you can sleep on the couch," Harry informed him, careful to keep things impersonal.

As Malfoy was finishing his last mouthful, he turned to Harry and ran his eyes over Harry's bare chest, before nodding. "Would you like me to leave the bathroom door open, too? I'm quite sure I could give you a much better show than the one you gave me, although I do have to say, you've been hiding a pretty decent body under those disgusting clothes all these years."

Harry was mortified. "Cut it out, Malfoy," he said, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice. He did _not_ want to hear that Malfoy thought he had a good body. That was the last thing he wanted to hear coming out of his mouth. But Malfoy just looked at him with one of those smirks that he surely must have patented, as Harry almost knew it as well as he knew his own smile after all the times it had been used in his presence.

He shook his head, not prepared to enter into any verbal battles with him tonight. "Just go and have your shower, Malfoy, I'm sure the rest of your things will be here by the time you get out."

Malfoy stood without a further word and did as he was told, shutting the bathroom door. Harry gave a wry grin at seeing the door closed; he'd half expected it to be left open just to annoy him. Not that he wanted to see Malfoy in the shower.

Whilst Malfoy was showering, Harry had Dobby collect what things of Malfoy's were left in his Slytherin dorm room, which wasn't much. Dobby informed him that most of his things had been sent home before that night and only a few things that were being laundered at the time were left behind.

There was the occasional mumble coming from the shower; Harry was sure he could hear Malfoy complaining about the shampoo and anything else of Harry's that was in the bathroom, but he ignored it and lay down on his bed, tired. He needed to think. What was to stop Malfoy using the time that Harry slept to capture him and take him back to Voldemort? To return as a hero? Only Malfoy's word, and Harry had never had occasion to believe in a Malfoy's word before now…but…the look on his face when he said that he wouldn't go back now…well, that had been real. Unless Malfoy was a really good actor and Harry didn't think so. As a precaution, he hid Malfoy's wand in the pillowcase of his pillow; his own he would keep on his person. Just in case.

And how was he going to cope with Malfoy resident in his room all the time he was here? He was going to have to be careful what information he left lying around. It wouldn't do for anyone else to know about the Horcruxes; Professor Dumbledore had made him promise not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. Damn and blast Malfoy! He was really going to put a curb on why Harry wanted to be here in the first place.

The bathroom door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and Malfoy emerged with just a towel wrapped around his hips. Harry thought he could have wrapped it a bit higher, it was almost indecent the amount of skin he was exposing. But, of course, it got worse.

Spotting his robes and things on the couch, Malfoy smiled and ripped off his towel, tossed it back into the bathroom, and then walked across the room, naked and unconcerned as far as Harry could see. He swallowed and looked away, up at the ceiling.

"Potter." Malfoy's voice drew his eyes back, where, thankfully, he had put on some boxer shorts and was dragging a singlet over his head. "I'm not sleeping on this couch. It's lumpy and uncomfortable. You sleep on it and I'll take the bed."

"Sod off, Malfoy. This is my bed and I'm sleeping in it. You can sleep on the floor or the couch, I don't care. Wherever you sleep will have to be better than the ground in the forest, so be thankful," Harry replied. Concern for Malfoy's sleeping comfort was last on the list of things to care about.

Malfoy huffed and continued to grumble as he lay down on the couch. Harry knew it wasn't that bad but Malfoy, of course, would be used to only the best. Too bad. Harry wasn't about to give up his bed for someone he hated.

"Can I at least have a blanket, Potter?" Malfoy grouched.

Harry sighed and removed one from his own bed, tossing it to Malfoy before flopping back down, curling up on his side, ready for sleep. "Now, shut up and go to sleep, Malfoy." Not wanting to fall asleep before Malfoy, Harry lay on his bed quietly, turning onto his side so that he could observe the blond. If the look on Malfoy's face meant anything, then despite his grumbling, he seemed happy enough. Perhaps it was that he felt safer in here with his hated rival than out in the Forest.

Just as he was thinking these thoughts, Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry. "Thanks, Potter," he said, yawning and looking a bit like a tired child.

Surprised, as he had never heard those words coming from a Malfoy mouth, Harry asked, "What for?"

Malfoy rolled his now drooping eyes. "For not turning me in. For giving me somewhere safe to stay." He yawned once more. "And I expect I'll deny the thanks in the morning, but right now, I'm too relieved to care."

Harry lay awake long after Malfoy fell asleep, thinking about the sharp left turn his life had taken. He knew he'd done the right thing by offering Malfoy somewhere safe; Dumbledore would have approved. What Harry didn't understand was why his hatred for Malfoy had all but disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Chapter 2.

Hours later Harry felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. He jumped up startled, reflexively grabbed for his wand, and looked wildly at who was shaking him. "Wha…? Malfoy? What is it?" There was a note of relief in his voice when he realised that it was only Malfoy shaking him, and that he was in the Room of Requirement, and safe.

"Don't wet yourself, Potter," Malfoy said, chuckling. "I've been awake for hours and I was bored sitting here watching you snore. It's about time you got up and fed me."

"You're joking, right?" Harry asked, disbelief plain on his face and in his voice. "You can feed yourself, Malfoy, I'm not your slave!"

"And just how do you expect me to do that? Your bloody house-elf won't come when I call it, so you'll have to do it!" Malfoy was standing there with his arms folded, and was looking rather put out at having to ask Harry for anything.

Harry relented, shaking his head. Dobby had some sense of retribution after all. He gave himself a little smile at that, and called Dobby to bring them some food. He did not, however, tell Dobby to do whatever Malfoy asked. He wasn't that stupid.

Over breakfast Harry informed Malfoy that he would be going out for a while, and that Malfoy would have to stay here. He still had the tunnels to check; he hadn't even managed to get into any of them the night before. His statement didn't go over well, however; Malfoy was sitting there looking down at his food and chewing on his bottom lip as if trying to stop himself from saying something.

"What?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked up at him and Harry was shocked at the emotion in his eyes. That was different; Malfoy almost looked frightened for a moment, and then the look disappeared, and he affected his usual scowl. When he didn't respond to Harry's question, Harry became agitated, but he didn't push. He wasn't a mind reader and wasn't going to force a reaction from Malfoy. Things were much quieter when Malfoy held his tongue, Harry decided.

He thought it probable that as Malfoy had been starved of company of any sort since the night he disappeared from Hogwarts, he was wary of being left alone in the Room and not being allowed to leave in case of being spotted and reported. But if Malfoy wasn't going to tell him that, Harry certainly wasn't going to offer to take him with him, or offer any other solution, either. He didn't like Malfoy's company; not as a choice in any case. The intense hatred had disappeared when his sympathies had been stirred, but that was all.

Finished with his meal, Harry stood and collected his cloak, then took the map from his bag. There was no reason to keep either one a secret now, and so he opened the parchment and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," whilst pointing his wand at it. Sure enough, it attracted Malfoy's attention, and he came to stand by Harry, watching as the lines and symbols and words spread out across the map.

"So that's how you've been able to get around the castle all these years and not get caught," Malfoy said, and Harry was smugly pleased that there seemed to be some admiration in his voice.

He nodded. "Yeah, my father and some of his friends made this map when they were at school here."

"I've seen a picture of your father – in one my mother had of Black - to remind her of what happens to people who betray …" He stopped and looked at Harry, and as Harry returned his look, he must have thought better about continuing that line of conversation. He didn't apologise, though.

"Well, my father and Sirius were good friends. Along with Remus Lupin and…" and there Harry stopped as well. Reminding himself of Wormtail only made him angry and likely to hit something, and even though he had no qualms about hitting Malfoy, he'd done nothing to deserve it…so far. "Anyway," he continued, looking back down at the map, and ascertaining that Filch was in his office, "it's come in handy from time to time."

When he looked back at Malfoy, after saying "Mischief Managed" and refolding the map, Malfoy was looking at him with an undefinable look in his eyes.

"There's a lot more to you than meets the eye, Potter," he murmured, and Harry was forcibly reminded of Malfoy's other comment along the lines of what he hid under his clothes, and he quickly turned and busied himself with putting the map in his pocket to take with him. Why were these comments heading his thoughts off into areas he'd rather not think about? Sure, he was a sixteen year old teenager, whose daily life had mostly been about staying alive instead of being hormone driven like normal teenagers, but why now, and why things that Malfoy was saying?

Perhaps he was just missing Ginny. Harry groaned inwardly, yes, that was it. Being away from her for just these few days was difficult, and he was a normal teenaged boy who was missing his girlfriend…ex girlfriend, then. He was supposed to have sex on the brain and read things into perfectly innocent comments that weren't their intended meaning at all.

Well, the sooner he got out of this room, the better. "I'll be back in a few hours, when I'm done checking the tunnels," Harry told Malfoy. "Try not to get yourself into any trouble while I'm gone."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Like there's anything to get into trouble over, in this room," he said bitingly, but his eyes widened when Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and disappeared. "Shit, Potter, where did you get one of those? They cost a fortune, and from the state of your wardrobe you're obviously as poor as your Weasel friends."

"Shut up about them, Malfoy," Harry snapped back, sticking his head out from under the cloak and giving Malfoy a start. "I'll be back when I'm back."

Then Harry slipped through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

.o0o.

In any event, it was several hours later when Harry returned to the Room. The tunnel to the Shrieking Shack had been clear; he should have known that from when he saw Malfoy emerge from it. But the one that led to Honeydukes was not, and he had spent a few hours clearing away rubble from a slide, so that the path was clear.

Once that was done, he ventured quickly into Hogsmeade in search of a newspaper. He didn't want to go without any news of what was happening in the world while he was hiding in Hogwarts. There were few people around and he was able to secretly drop a few Knuts onto the counter and hide a newspaper under his Cloak, without detection. By the time he returned to the room, he was hot and sweaty and in desperate need of a shower.

Was that relief he saw in Malfoy's eyes when he walked in the door? Harry wasn't prepared to go that far, but perhaps Malfoy really hadn't liked being alone all those hours in this room, and was glad that he now had company once more. Even if it was Harry's company.

"You're back then?" was the only thing that Malfoy said, standing when Harry took off the Cloak. The hunched shoulders and crossed arms gave away the fact that Malfoy was uncomfortable.

"You thought I wouldn't come back?" Harry questioned, taken aback.

Malfoy shrugged. "People often say or promise things they don't mean." There was a frown on Malfoy's face; fear too, and Harry realised that he was beginning to be able to read Malfoy's expressions now that they had this sort of truce and he didn't look at him through blind hatred any longer.

"Look, no matter what you think of me and no matter what other people do, I don't lie, Malfoy. I'm totally shit at it if you must know." There was no humour in his voice, or sympathy really, just a begrudging understanding of what it was like to have people let you down.

Malfoy nodded and looked a little relieved. Then he spotted the newspaper and his expression turned anticipatory. "Can I read that?" he asked, pointing to it.

Harry tossed it to him. "I'm going to have a shower," he said, but Malfoy was already flopping down on the couch and opening the paper eagerly.

A few minutes later, as Harry was standing under the water soaking away the sweat and rinsing off the shampoo from his hair, the door burst open and Malfoy ran in, agitated and in a right state.

"Potter!" he gasped out. "He has her…God… she was… he must have…"

Harry let out a shriek and almost fell over on the slippery floor of the shower when Malfoy burst in, but he managed to keep his footing and grab a towel. He wrenched open the shower curtain and stepped out to face a pacing, extremely pale and upset Malfoy. "Calm down, Malfoy, and explain."

Malfoy shoved the newspaper under his nose, which Harry couldn't read because his glasses were on the shelf. He grabbed the newspaper, reached over for his glasses and when they were on his face, was able to look for what Malfoy was talking about.

Scanning the paper, all he could see was a report about Aurors raiding Malfoy Manor, to find it ransacked already.

_Ministry Aurors, acting under orders from the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, raided the Manor of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy last night, as the result of information provided to them from an anonymous source. A source at the Ministry claims that upon entering the Manor, Aurors found the place ransacked. No one was found at the Manor and authorities are now believed to be concerned for the whereabouts of Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco. Foul play is suspected, as rumours continue about links to He Who Must Not Be Named. Anyone with information should contact the Ministry immediately. _

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was still pacing and wringing his hands, and his chest contracted slightly. Whatever his feelings were towards that family, Lucius in particular, Narcissa was still Malfoy's mother and losing a mother was distressing. There was not a lot he could do, though.

"He may not have her," Harry said quietly.

"Of course he has her, Potter! God…maybe if I'd gone back…he might have killed me instead of her…" Malfoy ran his hands through his hair and looked as if he were about to throw up.

"No," Harry stopped him. "I mean that she may have had warning that they were coming for her, and disappeared first. S-Snape would have warned her, wouldn't he?" Harry had trouble getting out the hated man's name, because it disgusted him to think that Snape might have done something honourable like warning Malfoy's mum.

There was a pathetic light of hope in Malfoy's eyes at that thought. "Do you think? He…" Malfoy was still pacing the three or four steps that it took to get from one end of the bathroom to the other, but the frenetic quality to his pacing had diminished somewhat. A shaky hand threaded itself through Malfoy's hair, and he took deep breath. "He might have…yes, that's it…he must have."

Malfoy was nodding as if trying to convince himself that Harry was right, and that his mother was, in fact, safe. Personally, Harry thought that Narcissa was probably already dead, but he wasn't going to voice that to Malfoy. But no sooner did he think the boy was calming down, than Malfoy looked back at him in horror, having worked something out.

"No…no…" He was shaking his head, and his voice came out full of dread. "She would never have left the Manor not knowing where I was. Not of her own free will. She would want to know that I was safe. No, he has her, I'm sure of it," Malfoy said, beginning to tremble.

Suddenly, a look of fierce determination crossed his face, and he whirled around and ran out of the bathroom. Harry followed, still clad in only a towel, to find Malfoy searching the room. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry yelled at him, worried now.

"I want my fucking wand, Potter. I'm going back and I'm going to see if there's a way to get her out of there," Malfoy yelled back, tossing some of Harry's clothes over his shoulder, emptying out the knapsack.

Harry grabbed Malfoy, pulling him away from his knapsack. "No, you're not! You're not leaving here, Malfoy," he roared as the boy struggled with him, only succeeding in elbowing Harry in the eye.

"Leave me alone! I have to go! I have to try and get her out of there!" Malfoy screeched, and pushed Harry away so hard that he stumbled and fell to the floor on his arse. Scrambling up quickly, eye smarting from the elbow, he launched himself at Malfoy and propelled them both into the wall, Malfoy face first. He twisted under Harry's weight, but Harry refused to let him free. He just could not let Malfoy go; if not for his own secrecy, then for Malfoy's own safety as well. He'd promised Dumbledore.

"You can't go, Malfoy. What do you think you can do if he does have her? How many Death Eaters do you think you'll have to kill before you even get to her? Can you kill Voldemort?"

He felt rather than saw Malfoy cringe when he said Voldemort's name, but Malfoy still struggled to get free, and managed to turn himself around to face Harry, attempting to use his now free arms to push Harry away. One of Malfoy's arms was up at Harry's throat, pressing hard and cutting off his air. They were scuffling, both pushing against each other, neither willing to compromise, and Malfoy protesting at the top of his voice.

"I can do it…I can take him…for fuck's sake, Potter, he has my mother!" Malfoy was almost in tears, his face was all screwed up, and his voice had taken on an almost desperate pleading.

"No," Harry yelled back huskily, having managed to wrench Malfoy's arm away from his throat. "Do you honestly believe that? If you go back there, he will kill you both, but he will make you watch him kill her first. Slowly. Badly. Or make you do it under the Imperius curse. And he will enjoy it! You know I'm right, Malfoy. You know what sort of sick bastard he is!" Harry placed his hands on Malfoy's shoulders, forcing him to stand still and listen. He knew he was pushing it, but he had to, and he could tell by the pained look on Malfoy's face that he was right. He had to live with Malfoy for the next week or so, and as he so well knew, guilt could eat you up inside to such an extent that you made mistakes. Neither of them could afford mistakes now.

As he felt Malfoy's seething subside, Harry relaxed. Now he became uncomfortably aware that he was standing flush against Malfoy wearing only a towel. They were both breathing heavily from their fight, and Harry keenly felt their closeness, perhaps because he was the one left feeling vulnerable and virtually naked, but he stayed where he was; he didn't want Malfoy to start ranting and try and leave again. Inhaling deeply, he continued in a softer, gentler voice.

"There's nothing you can do by going back; only get yourself killed. And I don't know your mum, but I don't think she would have wanted that."

Malfoy's defeated response troubled him. "Why won't you just let me go? I won't say anything about you being here, I promise."

"No, I can't."

"Why do you even care what I do, Potter? It's none of your business!" came Malfoy's petulant reply.

"Because there's a portrait of Dumbledore in his office and when I spoke with him, he made me promise not to let you become another one of Voldemort's victims," Harry replied firmly, but gently. "He thought you were worth saving, as did your mum by asking Snape to take care of you."

Malfoy's face seemed to crumple at that. His head fell onto Harry's shoulder, and he shook with what Harry assumed were sobs. In the position that he was in, there wasn't really anything else he could do but wrap his arms awkwardly around Malfoy's back and let him cry.

After a long while, the heaving slowed, and Harry heard Malfoy's muffled voice from the region of his right shoulder. "There's still a chance that he hasn't got her, right?" When Harry nodded, Malfoy pulled back and looked into Harry's eyes as if searching him to ascertain if he were telling the truth. To allow him that scrap of hope.

They smiled at each other tentatively, as they were more used to snarling and sniping. Malfoy looked a bit abashed when he saw the mess his tears had made of Harry's bare shoulder. "Looks like you need another shower, Potter."

"Seeing as I didn't finish the first one, that hardly matters," Harry answered back. His eyes caught Malfoy giving his chest the once over and he moved back further. "So, I'll er…just go and finish it," he stammered a little self-consciously, and fled back into the bathroom and under the hot water once more, discomfited to find that he suddenly preferred a cold shower.

.o0o.

Once he was finally showered and dressed, the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon in relative silence. Harry lay on his stomach on his bed, reading the parts of the newspaper as Malfoy finished with them. If it was not friendly, at least there was an absence of conflict. Occasionally, Harry would spend a few minutes watching Malfoy as he sat on the couch, abstractedly reading the paper. He was much nicer when he kept his mouth shut, really. Harry knew he had to be worried about his mother, as there was a permanent frown on Malfoy's face, and sometimes he did not even pretend to be reading, he just stared off at the ceiling instead.

He wasn't quite sure what to do about that. There was nothing he could do for Malfoy's mum, and there was still a chance that Malfoy might just up and disappear. That worried Harry, and he wasn't sure why, exactly. On the one hand, he had promised Dumbledore, and he intended to keep that promise as well as he could. On the other hand, if Malfoy did up and leave, it would not be fatal for Harry; he would just have to find somewhere else to stay – more an inconvenience than anything else. So, when had it become more important for Malfoy's benefit that he stay here, than Harry's own need for secrecy?

Once, when Malfoy looked up at him, Harry didn't have time to avert his eyes, and for a long time they just held each other's gaze.

"Why do you insist on wearing those horrid glasses?" Malfoy asked him, which broke the spell and he was able to look away.

He shrugged. "I've always worn glasses, and they're not that bad."

"Oh, please," Malfoy snorted and went back to reading his paper. Harry was a little surprised that there was no scathing comment, and he raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Dinner was much more relaxed than the previous night. Malfoy was still quiet and a little taciturn, but that was to be expected. For some reason, Harry wished he were better at dealing with emotional…things. It was different with friends; even if you didn't know the exact right words to say, a hug and a shoulder never went astray and you knew that just being there was good enough. But he and Malfoy weren't friends; Harry didn't have that to offer, and he knew that saying the wrong thing would break this fragile peace that they'd made.

There was still the question of where all the hate between them had disappeared. Harry could tell himself that he still hated Malfoy, but that would be too easy. Maybe it was the forced cohabitation that had dulled his feelings of antagonism. Perhaps, as much as he had been sure that he wanted to do this on his own and not put at risk the lives of his friends, he didn't really want to be on his own. And Malfoy was…

…expendable?

Did he think that because he and Malfoy weren't friends, that it wouldn't matter or hurt if something happened to him? And so, therefore, it was ok for Malfoy to be there?

As he dressed for bed that night, the silence between them comfortable, now, he reflected that thoughts along those lines were callous and not worthy of him in the least. Once more he caught Malfoy checking him out as he undressed; this time he attempted to be as unaffected by it as Malfoy had been walking naked across the room, and he thought that perhaps he would care if something happened to Malfoy after all.

"Potter?"

"Hmmm?"

"I…" Malfoy sighed. "Nothing. Goodnight."

Harry raised himself up onto one elbow and looked across at Malfoy. "What did you want to say?"

Malfoy sat up from where he was lying on the couch and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees.

"Do you have nightmares about…that night?" Malfoy's voice was small and hesitant, like he didn't want to speak about it at all, but needed to anyway.

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head and causing Malfoy to look up at him, taken aback. "I think about it a lot, but…do you?" He wasn't ready yet to tell Malfoy the details of what his nightmares consisted of.

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Every night. Last night was the first night since it happened that I didn't." Malfoy gave a little sardonic laugh, and looked back down at his feet. "Fancy that. The sodding Chosen One even keeps the nightmares away. Is there anything you can't do, Potter?"

Harry could tell by the tone of the comment that Malfoy wasn't being his usual sarcastic self. It was resigned and still quiet, and Harry didn't reply. For once, he wasn't going to react to the jibe.

After a moment, Malfoy looked back up at him. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it, Potter?"

"How do you mean?"

"If I'd known then what I know now, things would have been different. I was so furious with you, I hated you so much for being responsible for putting my father in Azkaban, because…" Malfoy paused, and Harry stayed silent, biting back the retort that rose to his lips. "Because as much as I love my father, I hadn't made up my mind about whether or not I wanted to join… _him_. You made that decision for me and that made me hate you even more."

Malfoy's eyes burned into him, and Harry felt a rush of guilt flood him.

"Malfoy…" Harry started, but Malfoy shook his head, and continued.

"No, let me finish. This year has been the worst year of my life and I realised a few things. I'm weak and I'm a coward, and if I had made the right choices, my mother might not be…in the danger she is in right now. I could have…could have g-gone to see Dumbledore right away, and he would have made sure she - we were alright, wouldn't he?" Malfoy was in danger of crying again, Harry noted, as his voice was becoming shakier and his eyes were shining as they pleaded with his for confirmation.

Harry nodded. There wasn't anything else he could do. He had often thought that Malfoy was a coward in the past, and he didn't know if things had changed, but he did think that Malfoy had had a pretty horrific year all round. "You made a lot of mistakes this year, Malfoy, but in the end I don't think you were a coward. A coward would have been able to kill Dumbledore. You chose the right thing to do, you made the hard decision, not the easy one."

"But…my mother…" And then the first tear overflowed and rolled down Malfoy's cheek, followed quickly by another one. Harry was lost now, and had no idea what to say or do, but Malfoy furiously scrubbed his cheeks, wiping away the evidence of tears, and gathered himself.

There was silence once more and Malfoy went back to resting his chin on his knees. Harry wondered why Malfoy didn't just lie back down and go to sleep, but realised that Malfoy had just shared something private with him, had allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of him, had made admissions and wasn't going to run away anymore. He was looking for a continuation of the tenuous connection there was between them.

"I'm glad you won't go back to him," Harry said, surprising even himself that he said it out loud.

Malfoy shuddered and nodded. "How long will you be here? You said that you would be leaving for good at some stage."

"A few more days, I think," Harry answered, somewhat bothered by it. "I have to give them time to stop looking for me."

Malfoy snorted. "You think they'll ever stop looking for you? You're the bloody Boy Who Lived, you're supposed to be their hero."

Harry frowned, knowing that they would still keep looking for him. He'd have to send them an owl soon to tell them that he was alright, but he was doing this on his own. "They'll look at the places I was meant to be and see that I haven't been there. That's all the time I need."

Malfoy seemed to think on that for a bit, then sighed and rearranged himself back on the couch, yawning and closing his eyes. Harry did the same.

"Night, Potter."

"Night."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters are mine. I just play with them for fun.

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**A/N:** Thanks for all your reviews. I do appreciate all of them and would appreciate any comment you would like to make on this chapter, as well. 

Jamie

xx

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Chapter 3 

When Harry woke a number of hours later, he stretched and sat up, reaching for and putting on his glasses. He was about to call out to wake Malfoy, when he looked at the couch and found it empty. The sudden thud of his stomach dropping was halted when he thought that Malfoy was probably in the bathroom, so he got up and went and knocked on the door to be sure.

No answer. He knocked again, and called out "Malfoy?"

No answer, and no noises coming from inside, either. He flung open the door and could see straight away that there was no one inside. Damn him, where had he gone? He quieted the little voice inside his head that tried to tell him Malfoy had gone back to Voldemort. He refused to believe that, not after what he'd heard the night before.

Harry whirled around, grabbed his bag and rummaged through it for his map. Thankfully, it was still there, as was his Invisibility cloak. What was the fool doing running around the castle? Was he even still in the castle?

As the map appeared on the parchment, Harry noticed that Filch was nowhere to be seen on the grounds, and he wondered if it meant that he had left the school. But he was impatiently waiting for Malfoy's name to appear, and when it did Harry was puzzled, as well as relieved. Malfoy was in Dumbledore's office.

Covering himself with his cloak, he made his way to the office quite prepared to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. If he'd been seen, he could have jeopardised the safety of both of them. When he entered the office, however, his irritation faded when he saw Malfoy curled up in a ball at the foot of Dumbledore's portrait. He was sound asleep, but Harry could see the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks.

God, he was so pathetic. How could all this not move Harry? It would take a hard-hearted man indeed to not be affected by Malfoy's emotion. It made Harry irritated all over again that Malfoy could play on his sympathies like this, and he tossed off the Invisibility cloak and walked over to shake him awake.

"Malfoy, what in hell are you doing here?" he yelled, as he shook his shoulder.

"Gnh…wha…?" Malfoy mumbled, as he blinked and woke, looking up at Harry with still red-rimmed eyes. "Fuck off, Potter, I just came to…" he stopped, and seemed to remember where he was, suddenly. Then he pushed Harry away as he stood up.

"What were you thinking? You could have been seen. Were you seen?" Harry yelled.

"No, you fuckwit!" Malfoy was as angry as Harry, now but Dumbledore broke in and stopped their argument.

"Boys, please. Harry, Mr. Malfoy assured me when he arrived that he was not seen. Indeed, most of the portraits have been at a garden party on the third floor."

Harry was slightly mollified, clamping his lips together to stop from spilling that he had been worried about Malfoy.

Dumbledore continued. "You did not tell me that you had planned on staying in the castle, Harry." There was some reproach in his voice, and Harry felt contrite.

"Sir…"

"Harry, it is alright, I had a feeling you would stay here. It's where you feel safe."

Harry nodded, and Malfoy was looking at him in some interest.

"The portraits in here are bound by an oath to not reveal the events in this room, so you have no need for fear of discovery from that quarter, however the rest of the portraits in the castle are not bound by that, and you would do well in future to only come here under Harry's cloak," Dumbledore addressed Malfoy, who pursed his lips, but agreed.

They spent the next few minutes talking about inconsequential things with Dumbledore. Harry didn't trust Malfoy enough - or at all really - to tell him of anything important, though he did note that he seemed a lot better than the previous night.

Both of them huddled under Harry's cloak on the way back to the room, perhaps too closely for Harry's comfort, so he tried to take his mind off just how close they were by working out how he would tell Malfoy off for making him worry. In the dim light, Harry could see Malfoy's satisfied little smirk, and couldn't decide wether he wanted to punch it away, or kiss it away.

Shit.

Then he was very thankful that the light was dim and perhaps Malfoy wouldn't see his blushing. What a stupid thing to think…kissing it away…bloody hell, he scoffed.

"Why did you run off to see Dumbledore?" he asked Malfoy when they got back to the room. His annoyance with himself lent his voice an edge of aggravation he didn't really intend. That had the effect of putting Malfoy back on the defensive, and if Harry hadn't been so annoyed with himself he might have felt sorry.

"None of your business, Potter," Malfoy scowled.

"Well you can't just wander around here. What if one of the portraits saw you and word gets back to Voldemort?" Harry raged, letting his temper flow now.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Malfoy's face was composed in an angry sneer. "You're not the only one that's wandered these halls after dark, Potter. I know a thing or two about getting around undetected in this place."

"Oh, I'll bet! And I'll just bet that they're Dark spells, right? Did your father teach them to you so you could spy on your classmates?" Harry advanced on Malfoy.

"Ever heard of a Disillusionment spell?" Malfoy's mocking tone halted Harry. Bugger it, yes he had heard of that one; even had it cast on himself, too. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, before meeting Malfoy's face and seeing a conceited smirk on his lips. Right. Definitely punch _that_ look away. He raised his eyes, with difficulty to Malfoy's.

"Right…well, no more pissing off somewhere without telling me."

"Oh why, were you all worried about me?" And there was that bloody mocking tone again. Harry just grit his teeth and nodded, once.

Malfoy's face softened slightly at that. At least the triumphant look had gone, anyway. "Fine," he agreed.

The silence between them stretched out as they stood there, looking at each other.

"Bit more than meets the eye to you, too, isn't there?" Harry finally said, quietly.

Malfoy allowed that with a small nod.

Harry decided that it was time he went and had a shower to start the day off. Anything to escape from those eyes; that scrutiny. Eyes that were beginning to feel like they could see right through him.

.o0o.

Harry spent the rest of the day checking the wards around Hogwarts. He also checked out the portraits as he travelled the halls. He found that Malfoy had been right; a lot of them were empty. Perhaps they all had other, more interesting portraits to occupy now that Hogwarts was empty for the foreseeable future. Or were still at the garden party Dumbledore had mentioned. Unfortunately, there were still enough present that it would be dangerous to wander around the school without the cloak or the Disillusionment charm in place.

It was his fourth day here since the staff had left. Harry wondered what had happened to Professor Binns, and once that thought surfaced, he realised that he had seen none of the ghosts of the castle. Which was odd. He pushed that aside. If they weren't in the castle, then they couldn't tell anyone that he and Malfoy were here.

Malfoy.

He figured he had about three more days before he could safely travel to Godric's Hollow to start on his journey, and therefore he had plenty of time in which to check the wards and such. No need to take all day about it; he could go back to the room. But Malfoy was there and he'd needed to escape. There was no point in denying it; he'd needed to get out of there. Those long looks that they were beginning to share were becoming too intense and Harry was sure that had he stayed, something was bound to give.

Critically looking at Malfoy, Harry had to admit that he was pretty easy on the eye when his face wasn't all scrunched up in disgust, or sneering at him in that haughty I'm-so-much-better-than-you way he had. But Harry had never been interested in boys before, and so put this newfound interest in Malfoy down to proximity and stupid hormones. And missing Ginny. At least that's what he was telling himself.

Regardless, whatever hormone induced…feelings…Malfoy provoked, and despite his suspicion that Malfoy might have hormonal-type inklings in return, it just didn't seem right to take advantage of them…of him. Malfoy was feeling down about his mother, feeling alone and abandoned, and it was human nature to need solid human contact. Right? Again, that was what he was telling himself.

After checking all the wards around the school, Harry returned to the room with a feeling of trepidation.

When he entered the room, he was surprised to find a hand bunched in the front of his shirt, and then he was shoved back against the door.

"Malfoy! What the…?"

"Do you realise you've been gone all day? All! Fucking! Day! Potter!" Malfoy punctuated each word with a shove into his chest. Harry wasn't hurt, but Malfoy's face shoved in close to his made him catch his breath. Malfoy was scared. Angry, but scared.

"I was checking the wards! Let me go!" Harry retorted hotly.

"You leave me here all day, ON MY OWN! Bored out of my mind and not knowing if you'd come back, not knowing if you'd aban…" Malfoy caught himself with a little hitched breath and scowled, letting Harry go. He moved away and turned his back to Harry, who was straightening his shirt.

Again, Harry wasn't sure what to do. God, how did Malfoy manage to do this? He was forever putting Harry in a position where he had no idea what the right thing to do was. It had always been that way, and the only times Harry had ever felt comfortable with Malfoy; knew where he stood with Malfoy, was when they were involved in some physical confrontation.

Ah…

Had it been like that all along?

It was ridiculous really, in its way, but it made sense. Too young to recognise a physical attraction, too immature and naïve to understand the need to confront each other all the time, it had become the only way they could allow themselves to behave, and still have that contact. Well, he wasn't sure about Malfoy, but it did explain why Harry had always seemed so obsessed with him.

And amazingly enough, Harry wasn't surprised at this sudden insight. On the contrary, he was relieved. It was comprehensible at least. The only problem was what to do about it. First things first. He moved towards Malfoy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't just leave and not come back. I'm sorry you were worried."

Malfoy spun around under Harry's hand and tried giving him a look of contempt. One that failed because his eyes were pathetically relieved, and his mouth closed over the scathing words Harry was sure he'd been going to speak. Instead, they locked eyes once more, and Harry felt his face begin to flame and his breathing sped up fractionally. It was really too intense, Malfoy looked like he was reading every emotion that was flooding him, and Harry was aware that his hand was still on Malfoy's shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Malfoy's skin through his clothes, feel the tension, coiled and waiting, and unconsciously his fingers began to tighten, his arm pulling Malfoy closer.

He let out a shaky breath when he realised what he was doing, but Malfoy wasn't pulling away.

"Draco…" he whispered, deciding that if he was going to do this, then he was going to call Draco by his name. He saw Draco's face relax at his words, though, and the next thing he knew he had his arms full of Draco and felt the barest pressure of lips against his cheek. For just a moment. Then Draco pushed him away and stormed off, head held high and that easy graceful strut Harry had always hated. It didn't look so bad anymore.

"I was just so bored here, Potter, that any company is better than none," Malfoy drawled as he dropped onto the couch. "So, don't read anything into that."

"Wouldn't dream of it _Draco_," Harry replied, grinning and sitting down beside him. "You were right, you know. Most of the portraits have gone. It's still not safe to wander around without the cloak or that spell, but perhaps we can go to the Library and get some books to relieve the boredom."

"We could? Of course we could," Draco smiled back.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Yes, tomorrow," Draco agreed.

Dinner, when Dobby served it, was delicious and the two of them chatted amiably about things like Quidditch, and the difference between wizard and Muggle music; things that were safe ground for them. Harry told Draco about what had happened to Rita Skeeter and how she was kept in a little bottle as a beetle for a while, and Draco laughed along with Harry, and agreed she only got what she had deserved. Harry liked it when Draco laughed. The tension and the ever-present hint of arrogance disappeared.

After dinner, Harry went into the bathroom to change into his pyjama pants; he didn't want to do anything silly to break this easy relaxed atmosphere, but when he returned and slipped into bed, Draco spoke.

"Pity," he said, eyes boring into Harry's again.

"Pity, what?" Harry asked.

"I rather liked the view you gave me last night." There was an almost wistful smile on Draco's face, and Harry blushed.

"Shut up, you prat," he responded lightly.

"I just happen to think you've got a decent body and I wouldn't mind seeing it again."

There was definitely a challenge in Draco's eyes now and Harry wouldn't be Harry if he didn't rise to a challenge, and so he gave Draco one of his own smirks, and replied,

"Ponce. I could return the compliment, but that would only feed your ego and that's big enough as it is."

Draco laughed and stood up. "You know what the difference is between you and me, Potter?" Draco stripped off his clothes and stood there, naked and proud and more than half hard. He was fucking gorgeous, and Harry's mouth went dry at the sight. Not to mention that his own cock had decided that it was more than interested and was straining against his pants, already.

"What?" Harry asked, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.

At that moment, Draco hissed and grabbed his left arm, covering his Dark Mark with hard, gripping fingers. His face was a mask of pain and Harry jumped up concerned, and ran to him.

"Is he calling you?" he asked, not knowing what to do, if anything, to stop the pain. Draco nodded and dropped onto the couch bending his head to his knees and groaning.

"Can I do anything?"

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, gasping. "It gets worse when you don't answer, that's all. I'll just have to wait it out." He had his arm cradled across his lap and was rocking backwards and forwards. His eyes were screwed shut and he gave a small whimper. Harry bit his bottom lip, feeling useless. One thing he hated more than anything else was seeing someone in pain, and not be able to do anything about it.

Damnit!

He leaned down and picked Draco up; giving only scant thought to the fact that he was lighter than he looked. He walked them both over to the bed, Draco still whimpering with the pain. Once Draco was settled under the covers, lying on his side in almost a foetal position, Harry slid in behind him and fitted himself to Draco's back, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. One arm reached round and covered the back of Draco's hand, fingers lacing together. He could feel the answering grip crushing his fingers, but Harry didn't care. This was all he could do; give Draco some comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't alone. The fact that Draco allowed this closeness, confirmed to Harry that he needed it too, and that made it alright.

Harry continued to hold Draco and gently rock him in the hope that the rhythm would be soothing. He murmured words into Draco's neck; hopefully comforting ones, until Draco's whimpering finally made his voice crack. It seemed like hours, but was probably much less than that, before Harry felt Draco relaxing slightly in his arms.

Harry whispered. "Has it stopped?"

Draco shook his head. "No, but it's getting less…fuck that hurt."

Draco's grip on his fingers eased, and Harry could tell that the pain was receding, but he didn't want to let go and move away, so he stayed right where he was, conscious that Draco was naked, but deeming it unimportant. Sex was now the furthest thing from his mind. Whatever had been about to happen before this…the moment was gone, but once again, Harry was reminded of how important his mission was.

"Did he call you when you were out in the Forest?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, once or twice." Draco nodded, and turned his hand in Harry's until they were palm to palm, where he twined their fingers again and held Harry's hand close to his chest. "Thank you," he said, so quietly that Harry wasn't sure that he'd heard him.

"It's alright, I just wish I could have done something to stop the pain."

"You did." There was quiet for a few moments, and Harry felt Draco relaxing even more against him. Was he snuggling back into him? Harry smiled a little. Who'd have thought that Draco Malfoy would be grateful for Harry Potter's arms around him, and want to stay there?

"Harry?" came Draco's tired voice.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't leave me, please?"

God, Draco's defences must really be down, Harry surmised, for him to sound so obviously broken and needy.

"I won't," he replied softly, and just held Draco until he felt the boy relax into sleep, the soft regular rise and fall of Draco's chest slow and soothing under Harry's hand.

.o0o.

_"Bring her before me," he said, his voice raspy and hoarse, and extremely fed up with the incompetent fools that had allowed that Malfoy boy to remain at large. His patience with the whole family had finally snapped and he was no longer prepared to listen to the sycophantic pleadings of Snape to spare her life._

_His loyal minions surrounded him. Wretched as they were, they were at least loyal, which was more than could be said for Snape. Bella was right; Snape was a liability now. He was of no more use, as that dratted school run by that bumbling old fool Dumbledore was closed at last, and his ghosts laid to rest. He had destroyed the influence that Hogwarts enjoyed, and he felt vindicated. Powerful and in control._

_Now, he would sweep clean the ranks of followers that he suspected of weakening his position, and amass a new army of those creatures that were considered filth and vermin. Greyback had seen to the werewolves and he had other secret operatives enlisting other dark beings._

_When Narcissa was flung to the ground before him and he looked upon her cowering form, he felt no pity for her. Her husband had let him down; her son had forsaken him and therefore she was as much a traitor as the rest of her worthless family._

_His hand reached down beside him to stroke Nagini's scaly skin, and he inclined his head at the scratchy tongue that flickered over his hand._

_"We will dispose of her quickly, my pretty, and then you may have your fun with her."_

_"Thank you, master," Nagini's hissing replied._

_"What a shame the men in your family are so ineffectual, Narcissa. I had big plans for both of them, especially your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it's so tender and sweet to the taste, and it takes defilement so well. No matter, the colour of his blood will stain my hands one day, and I will bathe in it and remember this moment."_

_"My Lord…" Narcissa's trembling body failed to hide her horror, and Voldemort smiled at it._

_"Horrified, Narcissa? Surely you knew? His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in this mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure. Now, however, I shall not."_

_"He is but a child my Lord, you can't…"_

_"Quiet! I have grown tired of this discussion. I merely wanted you to go to your death knowing his fate._

_Avada Kedavra!"_

_A green light shot from Voldemort's wand and Narcissa slumped to the floor._

.o0o.

Harry woke with a start, sweat pouring from his face, stomach roiling, horrified at what he had just seen. Voldemort had killed Draco's mother! His head was thumping, his scar was still burning, and a vicious twinge finally upset his stomach and he leant over the edge of the bed and retched, bringing up all his dinner.

Weak and panting he hung over the edge for a moment, his eyes streaming with the strain of vomiting and the stress of what he had witnessed. Then he felt a cool hand on his back. Draco. Oh God…how could he tell him?

"Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry just shook his head and fumbled blindly around for Draco's wand, which was still in his pillowcase. Wordlessly he handed it to Draco and indicated that he clean up the mess. Harry didn't feel like he even had a simple cleaning spell in him at the moment. Luckily, Draco seemed to understand and quickly cleaned up the mess, then got out of bed and went to get Harry some water and a towel to wipe his face.

"What happened?" Draco asked again, when Harry had cleaned himself up.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered, his throat sore. He was calming down now, but the sight of Voldemort killing Draco's mother was still foremost in his mind. And the things that he had heard Voldemort say about his plans for Draco were so vile that Harry almost dry retched. No matter if Draco had succeeded, he would still have been used as a plaything for Voldemort.

Harry scrubbed at his face, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his eyes, then up to his scar. It was hot to his touch and he could almost feel his pulse throbbing through the membrane of his skin. How was he to tell Draco that his mother was dead?

Draco was looking at him searchingly, a frown on his face, not understanding.

"This scar is a sort of link to Voldemort. When he's feeling some strong emotion, I…tend to get visions of what he's doing…saying…thinking, even."

Draco's eyes widened. "And he was feeling some sort of strong emotion just now? What?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Your mother," he answered, as gently as he could.

"He…?" Draco's voice broke.

Harry nodded. "But it was quick and she didn't feel anything. They hadn't hurt her." He tried to reassure Draco, but in all honesty, how could you cushion something like that?

Harry watched as Draco's face drained of all emotion. It became a blank slate, and only the obvious clenching of Draco's jaw gave away the intensity of what he was feeling.

"I'm really sorry, Draco," Harry rasped, as his throat was still a bit raw.

"I should have been there," Draco ground out from between his clenched jaw. "You should have let me go!"

"You couldn't have done anything," Harry protested.

"You don't know that! I could have been there for her! I hate you for keeping me from her in those last moments. You always think you know best. Perfect bloody Potter! So bloody arrogant, and you think I'm arrogant! You do it thoughtlessly, Potter. You're so intent on being the fucking hero, you walk all over everybody else's feelings and rights and you don't even realise that you do it!"

Draco's anger and distress were starting to be released now and Harry let him go, but when he had finished, Harry hit back.

"I don't want to be everyone's fucking hero, Draco, and you can be as angry as you like with me for not letting you go to her. You can hate me for the rest of your fucking life…because at least now you _have_ a rest of your fucking life!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to get down on my knees and thank you for that?" Draco snarled, standing up and leaning over Harry. "You made me let her die alone, Potter, and I'll never forgive you for that!"

Harry knew that Draco was taking his anger out on Harry, because he was the one that was available, though he did have a point. Harry was the one that had refused to let Draco go. With what Harry knew now, it was the right choice, but Draco wouldn't see it that way until he knew, too.

"You want to know what would have happened to you had you gone? Voldemort's words were - _I had big plans for your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it's so tender and sweet to the taste and it takes defilement so well. His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in his mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure._" Harry reached up and grabbed Draco's shoulders and twisted, pulling him back onto the bed and sitting on him before he had the chance to move away.

"Do you think your mother would have wanted you anywhere near that? Don't you think she went to her death knowing that you would not have to face that sort of debasement? Don't you think that she thanked all the Gods that you weren't there? She loved you and wanted to protect you."

Draco's face was a picture of horror at Harry's words. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Harry watched the multitude of emotions flash across Draco's face. Grief, anger, sorrow, revulsion and disgust all battled for Draco's face at the same time. Then he seemed to turn a bit green and pushed Harry off him, before he scrambled to the bathroom where Harry could hear him throwing up.

Harry wearily dragged himself from the bed and went to help Draco. After a few minutes and with a wet face cloth covering his face as he sat leaning against the wall next to the toilet, Draco began to sob. Harry lowered himself beside the blond, took him in his arms once more and let him cry.

While he sat there, he did some thinking. Tired thinking, but he made himself do it. He decided that he was really just hiding out here at Hogwarts where he was safe. People were still dying out there, and it was wrong that he was just sitting here waiting for people who were on his side to stop looking for him. How stupid was that? How cruel was that, to let everyone worry so much about him? He felt entirely guilty now. He'd trusted his judgement and look what had happened; he'd wasted these days – no he hadn't, not really. If he hadn't been here, he would not have found Draco; not been able to fulfil his promise to Dumbledore, and perhaps without him there, Draco may have already been caught. There was a reason for every decision, every choice, and perhaps finding Draco made his choice the right one.

Instead of waiting the few more days, Harry decided that he would go tomorrow night.All thoughts of turning Draco over to the Order had vanished from Harry's mind. He'd make sure that Draco had whatever he needed, that Dobby would look after him, and he'd leave his map as well. He'd have no use for it outside Hogwarts anyway. Besides, something else Voldemort had said was that he was going to clean out his followers, Snape among them. He'd have to try and warn him somehow. Much as he hated Snape, he thought Dumbledore would appreciate him demonstrating his trust.

Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco's. He'd only just not long ago said he wouldn't leave him, and now he was going to do just that. Draco must have heard the sigh, as he moved his head and looked up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks.

"All I seem to do is cry on you lately," he said, giving Harry a weak smile.

"And I've become used to your red eyes and blotchy skin. That's a new look for you, Malfoy," Harry feebly joked back, but his heart wasn't in it, and Draco just sniffed and punched him in the chest.

"Come on, let's go back to bed," Harry said tiredly. "We've both had a big day and sitting on this floor is not the most comfortable place."

"If I weren't feeling so…" he made a vague hand motion. "I'd ask if you were propositioning me," Draco answered as he stood, giving Harry his hand to help him up, which he took.

"And if I weren't feeling so…" Harry erratically copied the same hand motion. "I might have been."

"Ah, tomorrow, then," Draco said as they made their way back into bed. Harry let Draco climb in first and then settled behind him, moulding his body to Draco's back as he had previously, letting his hand come to rest across Draco's chest. Harry's lips found the back of Draco's neck and he kissed it lightly.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, as Draco snuggled back into him with a sigh of relief.

"I don't hate you."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine.

* * *

**Authors Note:** Warnings - Please read this warning before continuing. This chapter contains heavy slash. It's quite graphic, but tasteful. Please don't read it if you're under age, it is for a mature reader only. 

This is also the last chapter in this little story. There is a two chapter sequel which will be posted as chapters 6 and 7 of this, shortly. I'm thankful for all the lovely reviews and would appreciate any comment on this chapter. 

Enjoy. 

Jamie. 

xx

* * *

Morning found Harry asleep flat on his back; arms and legs sprawled openly. But he didn't stay that way for long. His eyes flew open when he felt a soft wet warmth between his legs. Looking down, Harry was mesmerised by the sight of Malfoy's head at his groin, and cool grey eyes looking up at him. The tip of a pink tongue was poking from between Draco's lips and swirling around the head of his erection.

"Bloody hell," he moaned as his hips automatically arched up to get more of that wet tongue and the warmth he had woken to. He had no idea where his pyjama bottoms had disappeared to, but he didn't care.

"Harry," Draco breathed out, and the air over the damp head made him shiver.

"Draco, why are you doing this?" Harry managed to get out.

"I want you to make me forget, Harry. Forget that people like him exist in the world that do…what he said he was going to do." Draco's face wore a frown, but he nuzzled his cheek along Harry's erection, and sighed. "Please?"

"What?" The heat in his groin made him groan.

Draco looked up at him, pleading. "I've not done this before…with a man…and…and you're a Gryffindor and you wouldn't hurt me, would you? I want to know that it can be good. If something happens later and I get caught, I want to know that it can be good."

"Draco…" Harry started. He wasn't too keen on being used just because he wouldn't hurt Draco. But Draco stopped him by dropping open-mouthed kisses along the length of his shaft and Harry moaned instead.

"Yes…" Harry grabbed Draco's arms and pulled him up to lie on top of him. Draco's legs settled either side of Harry's thighs, and when their erections met a flare of shuddering heat spread through Harry's body like wildfire. He reached round to the back of Draco's neck and drew his head down and into a deep kiss. There was a trembling hint of desperate need in that kiss, of a desire to be consumed by it, and as they searched each other, licking and sucking on lips, it seemed that the cares of the world slipped away and their only reality was each other.

Their bodies, unaccustomed as they were to each other, nevertheless came together urgently, achieving a perfect rhythm that seemed so familiar and so right that it startled Harry and he pulled back, breathless.

"We need lube," he said. He was desperately nervous that he was going to hurt Draco. He'd never done this before either, with a girl or a boy. Was it supposed to be this easy, this effortless? He picked up his wand and muttered a spell that covered him a greasy lubricant.

Draco nodded, biting his lip as Harry also covered his fingers in lubricant. "Okay," he said wriggling around and bracing himself over Harry, arms trembling and voice as fragile as fine china.

As Harry slid one finger inside Draco, he watched him carefully, tentatively pushing it in right to the knuckle. A look of surprise crossed Draco's face, and he squirmed a little, closing his eyes. He had no idea what Draco was supposed to feel like…inside, so Harry took his time before adding a second finger, searching Draco's face for any sign of distress. That didn't seem to be the case, though as Draco was beginning to roll his hips, pushing back onto Harry's fingers.

"You ready for another one? I…I think there should be three," Harry asked.

"Yes," Draco replied, breathily, still looking a little dazed.

Harry pushed a third finger inside. God he was so tight, but he could feel Draco slowly stretching, allowing him in and rocking in time with the push and pull of Harry's fingers. Draco opened his eyes and looked down at Harry. He began whispering, so softly that Harry could barely hear him.

"Is this what I've wanted all this time… This… You?"

"You sure you want this?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Please…now."

Gulping, Harry nodded, removed his fingers and reached down between them to take his erection in his hand. He helped guide Draco into the right position. Inch by inch Draco sat down on him, and the heat and the tight squeeze of muscle surrounding him almost made Harry whimper. He was too hot, too tight, and once he was fully sheathed, Harry was positive that one movement from Draco would make him come.

Deep and intense as the sensation was, Harry didn't want it to end too soon, and he gripped Draco's hips and held him still, watching his face carefully, seeing the grimace and knew that he was hurting. It was enough to pull him back from the dangerous edge - the one where he came too soon and ruined it for Draco.

"Draco…?"

"I'm ok," Draco answered, opening his eyes and staring down into Harry's. "Just give me a minute." Draco's voice was tight and strained but he held Harry's eyes and devoured his resistance.

"You're so tight," Harry whispered, feeling the miniscule relaxation of the muscles around him, but he kept motionless, waiting and shaking from the tension.

Draco rolled his hips a little and the sudden flush of adrenaline that shot through Harry, along with the sight of Draco's eyes fluttering, made him join his breathless moan to Draco's.

"God, Harry, I'm so…full…of you," Draco moaned and he could feel through the hands on Draco's hips, that there was little tremors of what Harry hoped was pleasure rippling through him.

"Fuck…move…now!" came Draco's order as he lifted himself up and dropped back down. Harry wasted no time in lifting Draco again and this time ramming his hips up, meeting Draco half way. Their skin slapped together, noise almost lost in the blending of their groans. Draco's hands were on Harry's shoulders, their eyes locked as they moved, Draco's dark and needy and full of something that Harry couldn't define, even had he the ability to step back and analyse it.

With a whimper, Draco moved slightly and Harry thrust hard, hitting his prostate, which only made Draco gasp and move faster begging Harry to hit that spot once more. He gripped his own erection and began pumping it hard. "Please…" he moaned and bucked and shook and Harry thought that watching Draco was just about the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

Ultimately, it was too much and Harry let out a loud groan and his whole body tensed as he came, pushing his hips up, holding Draco still while he thrust into him, until Draco collapsed onto Harry's chest as he shuddered and spasmed into his own orgasm.

A short while later neither of them had moved, though Harry had pulled the covers over them both. Draco was still lying on Harry's chest, his head buried into Harry's neck, and Harry had wrapped his arms around Draco, and was just holding him.

A muffled voice from Harry's neck broke the silence. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry stroked Draco's hair and smiled, wondering at the place he found himself in. If anyone had suggested that Harry would lose his virginity with Draco Malfoy…well, no one ever would have suggested it, it was beyond belief. And yet…

And yet, he realised now; he would not have it any other way. It wasn't pretty or perfect, and it hadn't taken very long, but Harry knew it was something that he would always remember as being amazing.

Eventually, Draco rolled off him and onto his side and Harry quickly moved to what he was considering his favourite way to sleep; snuggling up into Draco's back and holding him, as if he was some sort of protection for him.

As they fell asleep once more, even the thought that he would be leaving later on couldn't dull the pleasant glow that he felt.

The pleasant glow didn't last long, however. When they both woke later on and Dobby had bought them their breakfast, Harry broached the subject of him leaving.

"I'll be leaving tonight," Harry said.

Draco immediately dropped his fork and stared at Harry. "I'll come with you, then."

"No, you can't, Draco," Harry replied shaking his head.

"Well, I'm not staying here on my own! I can help you. I want to. I don't know what it is that you have to do, but whatever it is, I know it has to do with killing him and I want to help."

Harry looked at him for a moment; saw how determined he was and understood his need to help kill Voldemort for what he had done to his mother and had planned for himself. But, Harry couldn't do it; he couldn't take Draco with him. He didn't want to admit it, but Draco had become too important to him. In just a few days their hate had turned into something that it perhaps should have been all along and Harry was not prepared to risk that.

And then of course, he wasn't supposed to tell anyone else about the Horcruxes either. How could he go off searching for them with Draco and not tell him what they were doing?

"You can't help me. This is something I have to do on my own."

"I bet Granger and the Weasel are allowed to help you," Draco said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"No, they aren't," Harry replied, hotly.

"So, why can't I go with you then? Am I not good enough for the almighty Potter to work with? I'm good enough for you to shag but not good enough to help you kill that…that…fucking monster? Is that it?" Draco was yelling now.

"No, just shut the fuck up, Malfoy!" Harry yelled back, banging his own knife and fork down on his plate with a loud crash.

"Then what?" Draco shouted. "I want the chance to see you kill that fucker! I want my revenge too, Potter," Draco's voice broke on the last sentence. "You said you wouldn't leave me and now you're going and leaving me here all alone and I don't…"

Harry's temper drained away and he was left with that feeling of helplessness once more.

"The reason that I don't have Hermione and Ron with me is that it's too dangerous. People that are with me or close to me are a target and I don't want to lose them. That's why I broke up with Ginny. She would have been a target. You…you're safe here. Hogwarts is safe for you. I'll leave you the map and…and you can talk to Dumbledore whenever you like…"

"Oh great," Draco scoffed. "Locked up in the castle for god knows how long, with a portrait of the man I tried to kill. Brilliant, Potter," Draco said, his arms folded across his chest in what Harry now recognised as a defensive gesture.

"I'll be coming back. I'm not sure how long I'll be, but I will come back. I just want you here, safe and sound when I do." Harry muttered.

"People are always trying to make me do things to 'keep me safe', Potter. My mother did, Snape did and even Dumbledore did, and now you. Why can't I be trusted to make my own choices? I'm not safe. Whatever I do, both sides want me. I thought you were different."

"Draco…wait…" Harry stood up and pulled Draco up and into his arms. He was stiff but unresisting and kept his arms crossed in front of his chest, though he did drop his head onto Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I haven't explained myself very well."

Draco snorted. "Thick as always, Potter," he said, but there was no animosity behind it, just a resigned sullenness.

"Look, you can come with me if you really want to, I'll let you make that choice. I'm sorry, you're right; it should be your choice. But hear me out, okay?" Harry's hand was rubbing up and down Draco's back and Harry marvelled at how easy it was to be standing here like this with him.

Draco pulled back, looked at Harry, calculating for a moment, then, obviously deciding that Harry was sincere, he nodded and wound his arms around Harry's waist as he laid his head back down on Harry's shoulder.

"There are some things I have to do before I can kill Voldemort," Harry began. "I don't know where I'll be going and I don't know for how long I'll be gone. But it will be extremely dangerous, and I don't want anyone else to risk their lives for me. I've already lost Sirius and Dumbledore to this war. They were two of the most important people to me and I don't think I could stand to lose another. Something in me breaks when I do."

Harry turned his head and kissed Draco's forehead. "For some reason, that for the life of me I can't fathom," he grinned, "some blond prat has come to mean a lot to me…too much to risk," he finished in a whisper.

"It would be a big relief to know that you were safe and away from harm while I was gone. One less person I have to worry about. But, it's your choice. I would give almost anything to be able to have you with me – almost. I wouldn't give your life for it though and that's what it may come to."

Draco's arms wound tighter and he sighed. "I understand. But you can't save everyone, Harry. Not everyone will be able to stay safe for you and it won't be their fault if they can't. I'll…I'll think about it and let you know sometime before you leave."

Draco let him go and stepped back, a troubled look on his face. Harry nodded; it was as good as he was going to get. Somehow he'd talk Draco into staying here.

.o0o.

The rest of the day, they spent doing almost nothing at all. They took a trip to the Library for books - just in case - and they used Harry's cloak, as much for the chance to walk huddled together under it than anything else. It had been Draco's suggestion and Harry happily agreed, figuring it was a need for the comfort of close contact that precipitated it.

There wasn't much need for them to talk a lot and in any case, Harry saw that Draco's attention often drifted away and he became thoughtful. Narcissa wasn't mentioned by tacit agreement and that suited Harry. He had no idea what to say about it that had not already been said before. It was a horrible, horrible thing to experience and reminding Draco of it would serve no purpose that Harry could see.

He often caught Draco looking at him when his attention wandered and he wondered what he was thinking. Occasionally, Draco would smile when he was caught, but more often than not, they would just look at each other until one or the other looked away. At first, Harry had found these long, lingering looks discomforting, but now he found them soothing, like they were connected in an understanding of sorts.

Dobby served them lunch and Harry warned him that he was leaving and that if Draco stayed, then Dobby was to take as good care of him as he had of Harry. Tearfully, Dobby said that he would be honoured to take care of what was so important to Harry. Draco had sat there scowling and added after Dobby left that he was still going with Harry and had all that really been necessary as Draco wasn't a possession to be handed over into the care of someone else. Especially a house elf.

They almost argued over that; Harry annoyed because Draco still treated Dobby as a lesser being, and Draco annoyed because Harry assumed way too much. It took Harry explaining that he just wanted Draco to have someone in the castle to make sure he was alright, if he stayed, before Draco relented only slightly mollified. Harry ignored his barb about him always having to play the hero and all was forgotten.

As the afternoon wore on, though, and the time for Harry to leave approached, they became quieter, each caught up in their own thoughts. Finally, as dusk was descending, Draco stood and took up his wand. Harry watched him place the Disillusionment charm on himself.

"Harry, I need some time to myself to think. I'll meet you out where you found me, near the Whomping Willow. I assume that's the tunnel we'll be leaving through?"

Harry nodded to the space where Draco had been standing. "Alright, I'll be out there, soon," he said and watched as the door opened and then closed again.

When he was gone, Harry looked around the room, saddened to leave it. It had been his home for only about a week and yet so much had happened in the last few days that it seemed like he had been there much longer. He wasn't going to get all melancholy about it; he would be back soon enough, assuming that Draco stayed. If not, well, this room had served its purpose. It had kept them both safe, given Draco a secure place to hide and would continue to provide that if needed. But it was time for Harry to complete his…mission? task?…fulfil his destiny? Harry laughed wryly. How melodramatic was that?

The few things he needed to take with him were packed into his knapsack and before he left, he sat down and composed letters to Hermione and to Remus, adding a longer letter for Hermione and letting them know he was safe and would keep in touch as often as he could. He apologised for worrying them, but found that the time was…well spent. In retrospect, it was well spent indeed. Posting the letters would be one of the first things he did after leaving the school.

Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak around himself, picked up his knapsack and left the Room. As he walked down the Halls and outside he wondered how long it would be before he saw this place again. It still felt like home, even as empty and hollow as it was now. In the future…if he had a future after Voldemort, he thought he might like to come back here and teach. The politics of the Ministry frustrated Harry and in all honesty, these days he could not see himself becoming an Auror after it was all over. Hogwarts was home and home was where he wanted to be. Number 12 was always going to be the Black residence and not even reminders of Sirius' presence in it was going to change that and Harry had never felt comfortable there.

He berated himself a little over getting all melancholy over leaving after he'd told himself not to, but he smiled when he headed out to the Whomping Willow and saw that Draco had removed the charm and was lying on his back in the grass nearby, the fading light making him a dark patch on the ground only lightened by his blond hair.

Harry dropped down beside him and stretched out. Draco gave him a small smile and went back to looking up at the sky that was just beginning to be dark enough for the first of the stars to appear.

"I went and apologised to him," Draco said.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore. When you found me in his office – that's what I'd been doing."

"Oh. What did he say?"

Draco sighed. "Something along the lines of our choices define who we are. He said that after all that had happened I would understand the importance of choices."

"Ah…" Harry said.

"I used to hate you. I hated that you always hogged all the limelight. You beat me at everything and your name was always in the paper. You were a fucking celebrity and I wanted the attention and I could never understand why it was you that got it. A speccy git with messy hair and a scar, who wore bad clothes. What did you have that I didn't? Me? A pureblood with a pedigree as long as my arm."

"Draco…"

"No, Harry, let me finish. I've done a lot of thinking lately and I see now that in the past, my choices were all made from a flawed perspective. I was bought up to see things one way and if I didn't, there was hell to pay. And don't get me wrong; I bought into all those pure blood supremacy ideals because I wanted to. It was what I knew, what I was taught and if there's one thing that kids want, it's to impress their parents."

Harry moved his head to rest against Draco's shoulder in silent support.

"But I never saw things from anyone else's point of view before. I made my choices based on selfish things. It was what _I_ wanted, what _I_ thought about things that mattered and not anyone else. And the fact that it fit with my father's ideals only made it seem more…right. Well, it felt like I was making choices anyway, until that night when Dumbledore died. That's when it all hit home. I was not making choices at all, I was just following orders, doing as I was bred to do, being the lackey and not seeing the big picture."

Draco's hand reached for Harry's and held it tightly.

"Even faced with death, Dumbledore gave me a choice and it kind of exploded what I knew of him…and you. And I think then that I made the first independent choice I'd ever made in my life. God, I still hated him and you, but to see him dead? No, I didn't even want that anymore let alone be able to actually do it."

"I think he knew that, Draco," Harry said softly. "He even told you that he didn't think you would be able to."

Harry could feel Draco nodding beside him, though by now he could barely even make out his shape in the dark, as the moon had yet to rise.

"So, that's the reason I've decided to stay here," Draco said in a soft but firm voice. "You have something to do that's bigger than my revenge and I can't be the one to stop you. What if in the heat of battle, in a life or death situation, I find I just can't kill? Or…what if I hesitate and it costs you your chance to rid us of that vermin once and for all?" Draco's voice was full of self-doubt now and Harry moved closer so that their whole sides were pressed close together.

"I don't want to be the reason that you fail, Harry. What you have to do is too important for me to impose my own personal agenda on you. I trust you to do your job, Potter," Draco's voice became gruff with repressed emotion. "But if you don't succeed and then come back for me, I'll hunt you down myself."

"I'll come back for you, I promise," Harry replied, his own voice thick. "I'll be back before you know it."

Draco heaved a huge sigh of relief and there was a comfortable silence between them, both deep in their own thoughts as they watched the moon rise above them. After a while, they both turned their heads towards each other and in the moonlight, Harry could just make out Draco's eyes, dark yet shining and full of sadness.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"There's a lot of things I've done that I now regret, but this…us…isn't one of them."

Harry smiled and placed their joined hands over Draco's lips. "Shh… I know."

Another long silence fell between them and they let their eyes roam each others faces, Harry needing to remember what Draco looked like, supplanting old memories of the sneering Malfoy he had for something to hold onto when things looked bleak.

"Do you believe in fate, Draco?" Harry whispered.

"I'm not sure, why?"

"I wasn't supposed to be here, in fact, it was a mistake to come here. No..." Harry stilled Draco's look of shock by leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. "I meant, in terms of the job I have to do, coming here was a bit of a strategic error. But, if I hadn't, I would not have found you…I think it was fate that threw us together. Maybe there is a reason for that."

Draco looked at him thoughtfully for a while and then grinned. "Sodding hero aren't you?"

"What?" Harry asked, grinning back but not understanding.

"Rescue lost dogs and kittens too, do you? You saved me, you prat."

Harry blushed. "You would have been alright."

"You underestimate yourself, Potter," Draco shook his head.

"I'm going to tell Hermione about…all this," Harry said quietly, remembering the letter he'd already written her. "Just in case I…" He caught Draco's tension beside him and didn't finish the sentence. It didn't need to be said anyway. "I trust her."

Draco only nodded and stood. Harry joined him and held him in a tight hug, rewarded by Draco's arms hanging onto him for dear life. "You'd better go," he said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back for me." Then he pushed Harry away and stood there with his arms crossed.

Harry remained quiet. Whatever this was between them, it was too new, too undetermined to warrant tears and promises and heart breaking farewells, but he could no longer be casual about leaving Draco either. He turned, with a certain heaviness in his heart and picked up his knapsack from where he'd dropped it on the ground.

The next thing he knew, his arms were full of Draco once more and he was being kissed until he was breathless. "Now, Potter, if that doesn't make you hurry the fuck up and go so you can come back to more of that then I don't know what will." There was a teasing sadness in Draco's eyes and Harry answered in kind.

"Just the thought of that will keep me warm at nights, Malfoy. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."

"Go!" Draco said, with an incline of his head towards the tunnel entrance.

"Prat!"

"Speccy git," Draco countered, but there was a catch in his voice.

Harry ducked into the tunnel and gave Draco one last look, to see him standing there silhouetted in the moonlight, a solitary, lone figure, with his shoulders sadly slumped.

He'd be back. Of that he was certain.


	5. Chapter 5

This last chapter is a sequel. I thought it would have to go in to two chapters but it seems to fit in one, so, one it will be.

What we see here, is what happens to Draco after Harry leaves to go and fight Voldemort. It is mostly done in the form of diary entries and I must warn for bad language and an **extremely heavy slash content**, albeit only in one scene. **Please do not read if you are underage. **A further warning...in this heavy slash scene, there are numerous rather loooong run on sentences. They are done that way for a reason. Draco is writing them and getting a little carried away.

Enjoy. Please review if you like it.

Jamie.

**Disclaimer: **These characters are not mine and I am making no money from this story, just having some fun.

* * *

Someone To Come Back To. 

Day … I have no idea how long it is since you've been gone. I thought of keeping track of the days by scratching out little marks on the table, but I'm a Malfoy and that's barbaric. Besides, it would remind me too much of how long it's been since I saw you…saw anybody. An arbitrary date would suffice, I suppose, or I could go and ask Dumbledore.

Did you ever notice that damned twinkle in his eyes? Every time I speak with him, it's there… _twinkling_ at me! If any artist did that to me, I'd hex him so bad he wouldn't be able to put brush to canvas for a month. Twinkles???

Was he always like that?

He's not bad company, for a portrait, though he can't tell me any news from the outside. Of course, he might be able to but he won't. Perhaps it's a bit of payback for…well, you know what for. Is that something he'd do?

I suspect not.

It's very easy to get paranoid in a place like this. It's quiet and it's empty.

And lonely.

So, I hunted around in one of the school store cupboards and found a stack of diaries. I wonder why they never gave us these to use for timetables and such. Seems like a much better idea than bits of parchment lying around everywhere. Especially for someone like Goyle, who loses things with a regularity that astounds me. He's not the brightest wizard around and his mind was totally warped when I made him be a girl. What was I thinking?

You'll be happy to know…perhaps I'm assuming too much, I still don't know you that well…that I have decided to explore the school. All those books in the Library…Granger would have an orgasm…Merlin what a horrid thought! All that frizzy hair…

Actually, I apologise for that. I am fully aware that if I am to get any news about what is going on out there, she will be the one I hear from. I should be grateful for that.

I should be.

But then, if I hear from her at all it will be bad news, right?

Potter, I am telling you that if I have to hear bad news from Granger… I'll hunt down your ghost and kill you all over again.

You are not going to die on me, Potter.

.o0o.

Merlin, Potter, how on earth did you put up with this house elf? I kid you not, every time I open my mouth and ask him about you he hits his head against the wall or the table or once even bowed down and banged his head on the floor. Of course he might have been bowing to me, it would be expected after all…scratch that, bad habit.

You might have told him it was alright to speak to me in words other than 'Yes Master Draco.'

And you could have organized for some decent coffee. Tea is all very well, but coffee is sadly lacking in this place. Even a mediocre cup would do.

.o0o.

It strikes me that if I write in this thing every day, I'm going to be able to keep track of the days. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing now I know that. Will I be able to stop myself counting the days now?

My mother…

No, I need to talk about her. Not doing that will not respect her memory. If I don't speak of her, it will be like I don't acknowledge she existed. So…

My mother always did say I had a hard time denying myself anything. She was right.

I miss her.

.o0o.

It was sunny outside today. Not unusual for summer, I am not a complete cretin, you know. I just haven't been outside for a while.

I went and sat near the Whomping Willow for a while in the hope that I would feel closer to you there. Ridiculous though it may seem, there was a deep wish that I would be sitting there and you would appear at the entrance, with your horrid glasses (which I am going to throw away when I see you next) and your stupid messy hair, but with a smile on your face that lit up the world.

I'm a sap, so hex me. It's not as if anyone is going to ever read this. I certainly won't be showing it to you.

I still want coffee.

.o0o.

My dreams don't come close to the horrid nightmare that you had the night _he_ killed my mother, but I dreamt last night. A side effect of wishing you were here, I expect. You were in pain and the ginger git Weasel... err Weasley was there, too. It was dark and a green light shone from somewhere off to the side. I couldn't quite see what it was but it illuminated the grimace on your face and as much as I tried to help you, of course everything just kept slipping away.

Tell me it wasn't you????

.o0o.

The days drag on, here and one seems to blend seamlessly into the next with a monotony that makes me wish that an owl would arrive from Granger. Someone, anyone. Then I remember. An owl would only bring me bad news and no news is good news, right?

No wonder prisoners in Azkaban go mad. Oh yes, the Dementors might have something to do with that, but surely the solitary existence of life locked up in a cell must play a part.

Oh, Dumbledore told me about his brother, Aberforth, I think he said his name was. Mad old coot. Aberforth, not Dumbledore, though I have to wonder if his brain wasn't a bit addled in the painting process somehow. Goats! Said his brother was crazy about them and there was something unnatural about the way he liked them. Made me feel a bit queasy that did.

.o0o.

I think Hogwarts feels like it's time has finished. In places it's reverting back to it's natural state. Its magic is beginning to flicker in places, Harry. I don't like how it feels anymore; it feels like it's given up. Please hurry. What will happen to me if you return and Hogwarts is gone?

.o0o.

Stupidly selfish that last entry was, but it's not like that's news. I am selfish and spoilt and demanding and yet for some reason, you were nice to me. You took care of me in one of the worst moments in my life. Why? And how do I thank you for that?

I spoke to Dumbledore about it. I thought he would know why you cared enough. He told me about the prophecy and about your adventures in the Ministry of Magic when you lost your godfather. I'm so sorry, Harry. Especially seeing as my father was there. And my Aunt. She's a lunatic that woman, you probably don't need me to tell you that. Kill her if you can. Don't give her a chance; you just don't let someone like that have a moment of a chance or she'll find a way to escape. I'm telling you, Potter, you don't have a choice. She's poisonous and evil. She scared the shit out of me and she's my Aunt. I think I only learnt Occlumency because I was frightened what she would do to me if I didn't.

And I caught her one night _in bed with him_ (I'm not going to dignify him with labels.) What if she has a child by him? The genes of those two running around in a child? The world would never be safe and it would never end for you would it? You _have_ to wipe both of them out, Harry. You _must._

Where are you and are you alright?

.o0o.

After a night spent worrying about you, Potter, I read back over what I'd written yesterday and realised that I'd forgotten to write what Dumbledore told me and when I remembered that, I wasn't so worried anymore. Just angry.

The room looks like a shambles, by the way; I might have hexed a few things. But it will give that house elf of yours something to do.

Love.

That's what Dumbledore said. He said that you have the power to love enough to save the whole of the wizarding world and your compassion towards me was a part of that love. The altruistic sort of love; the greatest love of all.

Merlin, Potter, if you…

I'm not fucking stupid. Putting all that information together leads me to think…no, to fucking _know_ that you would sacrifice yourself if it would kill _him_ .

You promised me, Harry, you fucking _promised_ me that you would come back for me. Don't you dare fucking sacrifice yourself.

I…

Oh fuck.

I hate you.

.o0o.

I still hate you.

.o0o.

You're not getting off that easy. I hate that it has to be you now. Before, I wouldn't have cared. Now… Merlin, I'm fucking angry. Don't you dare do that to me! I will be as selfish as I bloody well like and I demand that you keep your bloody promise to me, Potter. Do you hear me?

Dobby has been busy.

.o0o.

He likes it.

I still hate you.

.o0o.

Stupid fucking house elf took away my wand. But I'll fix him.

In the meantime, I'm going to go and find all the books on Divination in the Library and find something to tell me that this prophecy of yours might not be true. Hate the damned subject; it's a crock of shit if you ask me. I'll find something in there, just you wait.

.o0o.

Well it's taken me a week I think; I really have no idea of time in here. Could have been a month for all I know. And very bloody hard to move around the castle without the disillusionment charm to make me invisible. Must get my wand back.

Trelawney made that prophecy? You have to be joking! Surely! DD said it was her, but she's batty, how could it have been her? And she drinks, too. Did you know that? Which reminds me, I could search her room for any forgotten bottles of sherry. I doubt Dobby would bring me anything stronger than a butterbeer to drink, and he won't bring me any coffee. Really, Harry what good is a house elf if it won't bend the rules now and then?

But, you should know, Harry that only a small number of prophecies made come true. Sadly, from what I can gather, the ones that tend to come true are the ones people think they understand. It makes them into a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. You know, when you think something is going to happen and subconsciously you make it happen that way?

Events have certainly put things in place for yours to come true, but you _will_ survive! Harry bloody Potter does not go back on his promises, right?

.o0o.

haaaaaaaRRRRyyyyyy…..

found the sherrrrrry

salzaaa...salazars BALLS I want you here. NOW!

shit. don't miind the ink bloches... blobs keep dripping it everywhere. woah

want your HANDS on me haRRY Want to feel me fulllll of your cock again. now . been trying to NOT think of that but am _fuking_ horny. who knew drunk made me horny? who?

**horny**. Tee hee

one of these days going to write exactly what I want to do with you potter.

things are HOTTER with POTTER

should have made that as a flashing badge. mAybe I will make one that says 'I fucked harry potter and all I got was this…room

sick now

.o0o.

Oh, how mortifying. At least no one will ever read that. Mind you, one of these days I might just tell you exactly what I plan to do with you once I get you back. It will keep my mind occupied, not just my hand.

Sherry is really not the thing to drink and expect not to wake up with a hangover the next day. Your house elf at least knew enough to bring me a hangover potion. Where he got it from, I have no idea. Perhaps Snape left some, or the Infirmary might have still had some in stock. Coffee would have been nice though, I want coffee dammit!!

Still, remind me never to drink sherry again. Now I completely understand why that woman went batty. And a Malfoy may be many things, but batty is not one of them.

Actually, I've been thinking recently, about my name. Was a time when the Malfoy name was a proud one. I was raised to think we were superior to just about everyone. Our blood lines went back so far that I'm sure if my father thought he could get away with it, he would claim some kinship to Merlin.

But, there's not really a lot to be proud of anymore, is there?

My mother is dead, and though she was a Black, she married into the Malfoy name and was expected to behave accordingly. I have a sneaking suspicion that she did the Black name proud and the Malfoy name…well had she lived she may have been able to help me restore it.

My father, I hope he rots in Azkaban or wherever he is. One way or another, he's lost any right to the name Malfoy. I'll kill him myself if I need to (if I can). Our family has a history of heirs doing away with the head of the family. Greed and power don't you know. And that leaves me. I would like nothing more than to restore some dignity to my family name; but I'm not sure I'll even be allowed the chance to try, let alone be able to do it. I want to be proud of my name again, Harry. For reasons other than graft and fear.

So much to make up for. Getting the distorted version of events from my father coloured my perception of the world and now, hearing the truth, I begin to doubt that the Malfoy name was ever that influential, or worthy. DD has been telling me about some of the things that you've been through and the part my father played in most of those. Some of them, anyway.

Do you think that the Weaslette - Ginny, is it, will ever be able to forgive me? I can't make up for it, or take it away, but maybe I can help in some way, if she'd let me.

Merlin, Harry, she was eleven years old! I've always hated the Weasleys and I suspect I will never _like_ them but to do that to an eleven year old is unconscionable.

That's apart from the things he did to you. I can see the differences now, between us. When I was frightened all this year, trying to save my mother, my family from the horror that is _him _I was on my own. I had no one to help me, no one to turn to. You had friends to help share the load of worry and I'm not diminishing that, or after pity from you, I'm grateful now you had that support, and you didn't have to carry the burden on your own. I can see you truly have friends and people that love you and you'll never be alone, Harry. They'll always stick by you, no matter what.

I don't want to be alone any more.

.o0o.

Twenty five days, approximately.

Seventeen plus the week or so that I missed while I was researching Divination.

Then, there's all the time I missed beforehand.

I'm very lonely here, Harry and I miss you.

And if you tell anyone that, I'll likely give you pink hair for a month.

.o0o.

Sometimes I lie here and I can feel the ghost of your breath across the back of my neck and it makes me smile and feel safe again and believe that you will come back for me.

And boils, Potter, I mean it.

.o0o.

I'm really trying, Harry, but the loneliness is getting to me. My body feels weighed down and dull. I can't even write to you. It's been a couple of weeks since I last wrote something in here. Most days, it's all I can do to get out of bed. Everything is numb and it's so much effort just to move my head. It's still and quiet and if I hold my breath, the perfect silence is only broken by my heartbeat. It reminds me I'm alive, though even that seems like too much trouble some days.

Dobby is even worried about me, I think, and he's tried to talk to me.

He's not very good company, is he?

.o0o.

He did manage to get me out of bed this morning, though, with the suggestion that I go onto Hogsmeade. I wonder why I hadn't thought it before. You went, didn't you? And came back with that newspaper. I could do that.

.o0o.

I don't understand, Harry, Hogsmeade is half empty. Where did all the people go? What's happening? Are things not going well? Damn, of course they're not, its war.

Where are you? I'm scared. I think I was better off that closed down husk, sitting here staring at the walls. I don't want to be scared anymore. Will you just hurry the fuck up?

Remember the kisses I promised you? There still here, I'm still here, waiting for you. As is the rest of me. Come on, you know you want me. I'm begging here, Harry and Malfoy's don't beg. Not ever.

.o0o.

I did manage to secure a newspaper yesterday when I was in Hogsmeade. It was stuck in someone's door. I have no idea how old it is Harry; it says the 21st of September. Have I been here that long? It's hard to tell anymore. Perhaps I'll write the days in after all. Assume that it was yesterdays paper and that would make today the 22nd.

But its full of you and how the Ministry still can't find you, and…

Harry, everyone is losing hope. Should I?

.o0o.

23rd September.

There's no news of any importance in this paper. Crap, at least Rita Skeeter was entertainment. I refuse to read the column that the ginger twins have taken over in an attempt to remove some of the doom and gloom of the rest of the paper. No amount of puerile toilet jokes is going to be able to do that.

Ok, so I did read it. But it's so boring here and I'm fast losing my way.

Some days, I hate you for leaving me here.

.o0o.

10th October.

You know, it's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist. The summer came to an end weeks ago and the quiet of autumn has settled on the trees. The nights are colder, now. I woke last night shivering and it wasn't until I'd wrapped myself in a quilt and become warm again that I realised that I can't smell you on the bedclothes anymore.

I used to be able to.

If I'd known…if I'd known that I'd miss you or that you'd be gone so long, I'd have refused to let Dobby change the sheets.

Fancy, me, a Malfoy, missing you, a Potter? And not just any Potter, but Harry bloody Boy Who Lived Potter. My hated rival.

Am I romanticising those few days? Am I filling in a huge gap in my life, with you? And if so, do I care?

Merlin knows.

I just know that for those few days, you took care of me in my worst moments and you didn't have to. It would have been easy to leave me to my own devices, leave me to my pain and grief and yet, you didn't. Why do I deserve that sort of compassion from you? I did nothing to earn it; nothing to deserve it.

You make me feel very humble, Harry. Grateful in more ways that one, but humbled all the same.

Merlin, listen to me, I sound like a girl.

I am NOT the girl in this relationship, Potter, so get that idea out of your head.

I may let you fuck me senseless when you get back. In the dark of night where no one can see, I may even 'snuggle' and like it. But I'll not be a girl. Got that?

Although my legs do look great in a skirt.

Did I get your attention?

Good.

Then come back, you speccy git, and you can shove me up against a wall, slide your hot hands up under my skirt and those long fingers deep inside me before you fuck me so hard the wall cracks.

Holy shit! I need a wank, now.

.o0o.

11th October.

I dreamt of you last night. Do you want to know what it was about?

Obviously. I shouldn't even write it down, Potter. I'm never going to show you this anyway. But it was so…in line with what I was promising you yesterday, how can I resist reliving it; writing it down so that in my bleakest moments here, when I miss you, I have something, no two things, good to look back on. This, and the one where I discovered I might have been looking for you all along. (Now, explain _that_ to me, Potter. When you get back, I'll expect a full explanation of just why, when I have your cock in my arse, I suddenly decide that we should have been fucking all along instead of fighting.)

The first thing I notice is your eyes. They're the colour of spring (oh, how romantic) but the way they're looking at me, it's as if you're compelling me, pinning me with just a look. How do you get your eyes to do that intense thing, Potter? Even if you'd let me move, I wouldn't have been able to, not held there by the depth of emotion in them. One that wants to devour me; own me and demand things from me that no one else has ever done. There are shivers running through my body right now, just thinking about that feeling of total thrall that you had…could have… me in.

Then your eyes let me go and travel downwards to take in the fact that I'm clad in only a shirt and a skirt; short, pleated and barely covering the tops of my legs. For a moment the loss of your gaze freezes me with a sense of acute disappointment and I almost sag back against the wall, only to be held up by the heat in your eyes when you see what I'm dressed in.

You blush so beautifully, Harry. In my dream you blush like a frantic virgin, all pink-cheeked and wide-eyed and biting your lip as if you want me so desperately but are ashamed to admit it and it's enough to make me hard, Harry, to think that I could have this effect on you. The smirk that is about to form on my lips is stilled, though, when you lift your gaze back to me. There's fire in your eyes, now, burning like the sun and it catches the breath in my throat.

Neither of us can move, trapped in each other's eyes. I can see myself reflected in them and I'm struck by just how much I am shaking, and how nervous I am pinned under your stare. In an attempt to look a hell of a lot more in control than I feel, my hand snakes down to run up the front of my thigh, lifting the hem of the skirt and I have no idea just what it revealed, but it was enough to make you growl, fuck, such a sexy growl too, like a rumble I could feel in the pit of my stomach.

That was all it took to break the spell and you move towards me like you want to eat me; consume every part of me and I flatten myself against the wall and wait breathlessly for you to come and possess me. Consent. Submission. Surrender.

When you crush yourself against me, your body holding me to the wall, the groans I can hear are coming from me, I can't help it; your hands are like bands of heat scorching my skin, up my thighs, hips and curving round to grip my arse tightly, oh so tightly, I just know there'll be bruises, but how can I care when my mouth is being plundered by yours; bruising and biting and claiming me and your growls thunder in the space between our chests, drowning out our heartbeats. And it thrums in the air between us, as the words that flow from your lips past mine are possessive and deep and when you press your hips closer and I can feel how hard you are, my world spins and there is gasping and groaning and your fingers are digging deep into the flesh of my arse and forcing me to rock and buck and roll myself over you and the rubbing and the grinding are making my shaking worse and it's almost beyond my control and I'm sure if you don't stop soon I'm going to fall apart.

Oh, Harry…

And then, because it's my dream, of a sudden we're naked and I can smell you. Visceral and earthy and the musk of our arousal surrounds me and I'm heady and trembling and needing you so much. Your skin feels like satin under my fingers and you twitch and growl when I scratch you and then…and then you make me come. When you bite my neck you find that spot that melts every bone in my body and I'm so turned on already that I scream and spurt hot sticky come that spreads flat between our bodies. You won't let me move, you're holding on so tightly rocking into me, invading my space, my mind. I want you to invade my body and I arch into you, managing to lift my leg and wrap it round your hips and I tell you to fuck me… _fuck me, Harry…fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me_ and I don't stop saying it, demanding it, until your long fingers slide into my hole, spread me like butter because I need you so much and I'm hard again, already.

You're telling me how utterly wanton and wasted I look and my head drops back as I roll with your fingers as they finish fucking me. We've no lube, but dreams don't need lube and you lift me slightly so I can wrap my other leg around your waist and then your cock finds its way home and I scream, not because I'm in pain, but because its you that's causing it. It's an exultant scream, needy, and possessive and guttural and … _yes._ I can feel the very shape of you inside me, you fill me up so that I feel bloated and heavy and it's all I can do to hang on and watch as you brace me against the wall and batter my arse again and again, over and over, harder and harder and I don't care if I'm bleeding, I don't care if I can't walk for a week, because the pain is exquisite and the ecstasy is hot and sweaty and filling my body with new words, like _yours_ and _harder_ and _mine_. When I finally find the right controls to move, I drop my head onto your shoulder and bite down hard and I can feel the shudder that runs through you, deep under your skin and you drop to your knees, dragging me with you, and I, refusing to let you slip out, grip your waist with my legs, brace my back against the wall and move my hips up and down, sliding so deliciously along your cock until you come back to your senses and finish right there on the floor, rutting upwards into me like an animal, all fingers and teeth and hands and cock and the scalding slipperiness when you come is more welcome than the spring and I finally fall forward into you and come again, grasping and clenching and milking you for all you're worth…

If dreams were wishes, Harry…

You've created a monster.

.o0o.

17th October.

More dreams; they fill my days and make me wish to never wake.

.o0o.

18th October.

Why am I still here?

I feel jumpy today. Like…something big is going to happen. No, wait, like I'm waiting for something big to happen. You know, that expectation, that anticipation of some amazing thing coming. Like getting a new broom; the top of the range; faster than lightning. Only, I think, or am hoping that it's you, I'm waiting for.

.o0o.

1st November

This map of yours has come in handy, Harry. There's another little room down near the Slytherin dorms that must have been a decent place for a good old snogging. Little alcove just around the corner from the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Can't say I've ever seen it before, though I have snogged a girl or two.

And before you ask, yes, bloody Pansy Parkinson…I wonder what she's doing now. She was just a good friend, despite what it might have looked like. We've known each other since we were kids; I think even we expected to marry each other.

Not likely to happen now is it? Not that I would want to. Pansy will only ever be a friend.

.o0o.

11th November.

Most of the portraits have gone, now. I rarely see one of them with anyone in it. The spiders are beginning to take over and there are cobwebs everywhere.

Where did all the house elves go?

They were always just…there…at the Manor. One never asked after them or even remembered their names if one didn't want to. My father used to remember their names. He had a list of them in the drawer in his study. I used to think it was a way of keeping track of how many we had so that if he heard of someone having more, he would direct two of them to mate.

And I never thought there was anything wrong in that. Funny how spending time in the company of one for so many months changes your whole attitude towards them.

But, now I think on it, he used to consult that list right before calling one of them in and practicing some strange spell or other. Mostly, I'd disappear when he did that. So, now I think it was a way for him to keep track of whose turn it was to be tortured.

Merlin, I was brainwashed, wasn't I?

While Dobby isn't very good company, I could never think of torturing him like that. Besides not being one to bite the hand that feeds me as such, it seems like such a waste. A waste of time and energy, and when it comes down to it, cruel and inhuman.

That's what _he_ is, isn't he? Aside from actually not having much human left in him, he's inhuman in that he has very little human emotion apart from his greed for power and his predilection for torture and…boys like me.

Thank you, Harry.

I still hate you some days for leaving me here, though.

.o0o.

12th November.

I'm going out again, today. Into Hogsmeade. I need to know if the climate has changed, if I can get another newspaper and see what is happening; if there's any word of you.

My nerves are clanging and I'm still jumpy and a Malfoy hardly ever admits to a failing, but I'm learning that not all things Malfoy are good or right. Or that being the best Malfoy I can be entails pretending that I have no emotions.

So, I'm jittery and the solitude is frustrating. DD and Dobby try, but I am still kept in ignorance of what is happening out there. Not just to you, either, but…things like, is there still a Quidditch season? Are the Weird Sisters playing anywhere or have a new song out? Has anyone taken over Fortesque's? Trivial things. Things that make me still feel part of the world. You can't be my world, Harry, though I have a feeling I've made you such an important part of it. Does that mean I'm hanging on too tightly? Will you find me clingy when you return? Have I read too much into those days we spent together and idealised them into some great passionate romance, when, in fact, you were just being you?

Now I think that and I can't sort out my feelings towards you. There's a definite attraction there, lust even, that's obvious. And there's a deep gratitude and some indefinable feeling that fills me when I think of you. It's probably made up of a number of things – fear that you might be in danger; a wish to be there to be of some help – which would only salve my ache, though, and give you something else to worry about. I think there's anger in there as well. Anger that the time we had was so short. If that's all the time I ever have with you, will it be enough? And then there's also a maddening desire to…

I was going to say 'love you' but I'm not ready for that. Love is such a devilishly tricky emotion. I don't think I have the emotional stability to know what true love is. I do know that I have the need to give you everything you deserve in that respect. I'm wondering if I can be as altruistic and say that if you don't need it from me then I can understand that and step aside.

Can I? And if I can, does that mean I really love you, or that I don't and am using it as an excuse?

How does one know?

I'm not sure I'm that good a person, Harry. I'm still too selfish (at least I admit it) and if I want you, then I want you and unless you push me away, I'll have you. If that means I'm selfish, then it does. If that means I love you, then it means that, too. And I'll fight for you.

.o0o.

13th November.

Hogsmeade is much the same as the last time I was there, though there does seem to be a few more people around. My father used to say that if you live under a threat for long enough, it ceases to be one. I think maybe he was right. There's nothing in the newspaper that's any different from the last one, but the atmosphere has changed. It's as if they're not as frightened anymore and are attempting to go about their usual daily lives with as much normalcy as possible.

There are still Death Eater attacks, but they seem far away from Hogsmeade and, whilst terrifying, don't seem to have the same impact on the people of the village.

My thoughts of yesterday and seeing Hogsmeade afterwards have left me a lot calmer. I'm not sure if it's love I feel for you, Harry, but there's something there, isn't there? I don't think I can have imagined that. Six years of hating each other and perhaps it was all just pigtail pulling all along? Maybe this time, instead of fighting you, fighting against you, I can fight for you and with you. I think I'd like that.

Sitting here, hiding away in Hogwarts isn't going to enable me to do that but it feels like it's something I'm doing for you, and so, I stay. There is still part of me that says I'm being a coward for staying and I understand the reasons why you want me to, I do, they just seem less potent the longer ago it was that you told me what they were.

Oddly enough, I think I want you to be proud of me, not come back for me as some dependant person who needs to lean on you and needs your protection. I want to be an equal to you, not one of those that hangs on and holds you back.

But, there's nothing I can do. I made a promise and I will keep it and then perhaps after you keep yours and come back for me, I can find a way to show you that I can be someone to be proud of.

These jumbled thoughts aren't making much sense, but some of these concepts, I've not had to think about before, it's hard work being on the side of the Light.

Bloody Gryffindors.

.o0o.

I have to get out of here; the walls are driving me insane.

.o0o.

20th November.

Something smashed against the wards last night. I could feel them shaking. It petrified me and sent all my recent thoughts about being brave and making you proud of me right out the window, and for a while I cowered here like a quivering jelly.

It was just once and Dobby came and made sure that the Room was not going to be accessible to anyone, but it scared me all over again to think of what _he_ would do with me if he found me. There's that 'living with danger' thing I was talking about with the people in Hogsmeade. I'd become so used to it, I didn't consider it a danger anymore.

Solitude and complacency; those are the two things that will get me caught unless I am vigilant. And unless I stop acting like a scared rabbit all the time.

So, today, I am taking a leaf out of your book and going to do the rounds of the school wards and make sure that they're alright. I used that map of yours to make sure that there was no one in the castle, which relieved me greatly, I must say. Your dad and his friends certainly had some skills with magical artifacts didn't they?

It makes me feel good to be able to do something to protect myself instead of relying on the school, or you, or someone else. I'll find whatever it was that tried to smash the wards and deal with it. I will. It will let me feel a little more in control of things.

.o0o.

21st November.

I couldn't find anything that might have tried to break through the wards and so I can only assume that it was a person trying to get through. Does that mean they know where I am? If they get in will they be able to find me?

Strange, but last night, I would have thrown myself under the covers and refused to even come out; just lay there waiting for them to find me. Now…now I want to go and face them; tell them to get the hell off the school grounds and leave me the fuck alone. Not only for myself, but for you, too. I miss you and I want you back here, and if there are any feelings for me on your side, then I can imagine what pain you might experience if you turn up here and I'm no longer here, so I want to fight.

I'm checking the map every hour or so, just to ensure that there is no one on the grounds that shouldn't be.

So far, there is no one but me.

.o0o.

23rd November.

Merlin, Harry, I don't know how you coped all those years with _him_ after you. I'm jumping at every little noise, thinking that someone is there; that one of the Death Eaters managed to capture you or Granger and made you tell them where I am. Then I remember that the world does not revolve around me and hope that I'm not that important to them. Maybe they've given up?

Oh, shit…

False alarm, it was just Percy Weasley checking out the school. Probably for the Ministry. He still works there doesn't he? In any case, I saw him on the map and nearly shit myself, but he just wandered around, stopped in DD' s office for a bit then left. I assume the wards would let him through because he's one of the Light. Or the Ministry has ways of getting around the wards.

If he comes back again, I'll follow him. Get a bit of practice in; he's got to be easier to follow and spy on than a Death Eater.

.o0o.

4th December.

Only three weeks until Christmas. The weather has really closed in, now winter is here. The room has given me a lovely fireplace that Dobby keeps built up and the room is as warm and cozy as it can be.

As you can see, I'm not writing in this thing every day. Nothing happens here. There's a little excitement every now and then, but the rest of the time it's the same boring old thing day after day.

I could sit here and philosophise about the world and life in general, or I could tell you tales of my childhood, but when seen through the eyes that I now use to see the world, it doesn't paint a very flattering picture. Not of me, not of my father (not that I care about him). And if I am never going to show you this, then what is the point? It was my life; it made me who I am and that's all there is to it.

I could tell you all the things I plan to do with you when you get back, like I promised, but that only serves to remind me that you're _not_ here.

Do you still want me, Harry? It's hard to keep telling myself that you do, day after day, when I'm here all alone with nothing but my thoughts and doubts and insecurities to keep me company. We made no promises to be together, yet that's what it felt like was running as an undercurrent to my pleas for you to come back and your promise to do so.

.o0o.

11th December.

I went back and read through that delicious dream I had where you ravished me up against the wall.

Oh, Harry, I need you.

I'm not going to be a sap about this; unnecessary displays of emotion are unbecoming of…

Of what, I have no idea. I seem to have lost all sense of myself. Having only myself for company, you'd think that I'd be all introspective and have been able to work myself out, but I feel like I'm just marking time here, waiting. Waiting for you to come back for me, waiting to be able to live my life again, waiting to be free, waiting to have something to strive for.

So, reliving my little dream just makes me miss you more. I keep changing it in my head, too. Last time there were ties around my wrists, which bound me to the bed, but you still looked at me with that intense…it was almost devotion. It made me shiver to know that you needed me so much; that you wanted to claim me; own me. Partly because it's the way I need you – in moments when my doubts are quelled by how horny I am – but it's also that I think I _like_ that feeling of utter adoration. I want you to feel that way about me; I want that attention from you. I also want that safety I get when I am in your arms, under your control. In the last one, as I lay there, open and waiting for you and you covered me, entered me and commanded my submission; it was like welcoming you home. To me.

Then, in my more lucid moments, I feel that it's all a pipe dream and you'll come back for me and decide that I'm not what you want.

.o0o.

22nd December.

Harry, there's someone in the castle that shouldn't be. He can't be, can he? If it's true…does this map lie…make mistakes? If it's true then you must be dead or captured.

Oh, Harry…

If he's free then all is lost for me. He'll be able to track me…

I'm scared….

I'll have to go and fight him. Kill or be killed, right?

My father.

If I don't come back, and if by some chance you return and read this, then take comfort in the fact that you changed my life, Harry Potter. I do not regret one single minute of the time we spent together and I do not take back one single word of all I have said in this diary.

And, just in case, I think…

…I love you.

.o0o.

.o0o.

.o0o.

Harry closed the diary, a frown shading his face. A tumult of emotions at the contents of the diary threatened to overwhelm him, but he made the effort to put those aside to look at later; he was too worried to think about his own feelings now. The last entry had been almost a week ago, and the room had that unlived in look.

Where was Draco?

When Harry had arrived roughly an hour ago to find the room empty, he wasn't particularly worried. Hogwarts was huge and he knew that Draco would not spend all his time within their room. Being cooped up in a small room would be enough to send anyone around the bend if they were there long enough. He'd thought perhaps Draco was off exploring the castle; getting himself into places he would have never even attempted when the school was open.

Of course, there had been a niggling worry that Draco may have left the school grounds entirely, but Harry knew that had that happened, Dobby would have found some way to let him know. And he also knew that if Draco had been captured, then he would have heard about it through more official channels.

He'd been searching for the map to locate Draco, when he found the diary tucked under the mattress. The little idiosyncrasy of hiding the diary in a room that was also hidden had made him smile and forget that the map was missing. It almost made up for losing the little fantasy he'd carried around with him. The one where he came into the room, surprising Draco, taking him in his arms and kissing his breath away. Almost.

He probably shouldn't have even read it, but with no map and no Draco, Harry needed information and the diary seemed the best place to get it.

Now, having read the last entry in the diary, he was very concerned, indeed. All of a sudden, the hope that had kept him going through everything; all the long lonely nights and the frustration of hunting for and destroying the Horcruxes, and even the pain and anger he had felt as he killed Voldemort, might all be dashed and he'd be left with the guilt of being too late. More than that, though, he was concerned about Draco. Worried, anxious and agitated.

If Lucius had been here, anything could have happened.

"Dobby!" Harry called loudly, and with a loud crack, Dobby appeared, a huge grin on his face.

"Master Harry Potter, sir, you is back! Dobby is…" he began, but Harry interrupted him.

"Thank you Dobby, but can you tell me where Draco is?"

Dobby frowned and shook his head. "Dobby doesn't know. Master's friend left and Dobby is not seeing him since." The small elf began to wring his hands, looking desperate. "Bad elf…" he began. He ran to the wall and proceeded to bang his head against it. "Dobby should be keeping Master's friend here…bad, bad elf…" he chanted.

"Dobby, stop it, will you," Harry exclaimed, irritated. "I doubt you would have been able to make him do anything he didn't want. Just help me find him. Is there any way you can search the grounds for him? He might be hurt or something."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby is doing that, Master Harry Potter, sir. Right away, sir," he replied, and disappeared.

"If you've gone and got yourself killed, now, Draco, I will take a leaf out of your book and hunt down your ghost just so I can kill you all over again," he muttered to himself as he headed out, trying to sort out the places he would look for Draco. He knew that Draco wasn't in the Headmistress' Office, as he'd Floo-ed over here as soon as he'd been allowed.

In the end, he got no further than the stairs at the end of the hall, when Dobby appeared ahead of him, excited by something.

"Master Harry Potter, sir, there is fire in the grounds, near Mister Hagrid's hut, sir. Dobby is not knowing who it is, sir, but the wards…"

Harry didn't wait for any more; he sped off down the stairs, thanking Dobby loudly over his shoulder as he flew down the steps three or four at a time.

He had his wand ready as he charged out of the Entrance, just in case it was Lucius. Should it be Lucius, the man would not be leaving Hogwarts grounds alive, if anything had happened to Draco. He didn't enjoy killing, though he'd had to do it, but he would kill again if…the worst had happened.

From the entrance he could now see the fire and the small dark shadow of a figure standing nearby, silhouetted in the glow from the flames. His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, and he was tempted to call out, but held back until he knew for sure.

He pulled up about twenty yards away from the figure, breathing hard, the tension making his wand hand twitch. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and raised his arm, aiming his wand directly at the dark shape. There was no way that he was going to rush in, thinking it was Draco, only to have to face Lucius unprepared.

In the light he thought it looked like it could be Draco, but the two were eerily alike in some ways, so there would be no relief for him until he knew for sure.

Whilst he had his breathing under control now, his heart was still thumping as he tried to make out more features. He took one step closer, then another, quietly, carefully, begging internally that it be Draco.

Then he'd know if there was a chance. Memory played tricks on people, Harry knew that. He'd tried to keep his own feelings for Draco controlled and not to think about much more than just getting the job done and coming back for him as he'd promised. He'd told Draco that the memory of his last kiss would keep him warm at night. It was said in teasing jest, but there were times when he'd used that memory as an anchor. It had made him get up out of bed, or whatever place he'd found himself sleeping, and keep going, because it gave him hope, the hope of someone to come back to. A part of him had wondered if all that hope had a basis in reality and although he'd clung to it and used it, there was always the possibility that he'd remembered things differently than how they really were.

Consequently, his feelings were confused, despite knowing now that Draco felt something between them, too, and not 'just comfort'. He needed to see Draco; needed to see the look on his face; to see if that look was how he remembered; to see if the Draco in his memory and what he'd wanted and wished for all those long months had been based in reality and not on imagination.

He watched the slight tilt to the head of the figure and something gave in his chest. Some knot of tension that he barely recognised as despair. Surely, that movement was familiar?

After all these months, would it be awkward, he wondered? Would they have that bond that they'd seemed to develop over those few days they'd spent together? Would he live up to the dreams that Draco had of him? He blushed as he remembered reading those, but all the while, he just moved slowly forward silently, tensed and waiting, as if some divine being was supposed to intervene and make the shadow turn like he knew he was there.

Maybe Harry made a noise, or maybe it was divine intervention, because the figure turned towards him, unerringly picking him out in the early evening gloom. Harry stopped, heart thumping painfully, the hand resting stiffly at his side damp with the sweat of anxiety. Now, though, the light of the flames cast a shadow across the features of whoever it was and Harry was no closer to identifying him than he was before. A frustrated clench of his fist stopped him recklessly throwing caution to the wind and calling out or casting a curse from the wand still raised in his hand.

Why couldn't he _see?_

Just as he began to walk forward once more, a faint, "Harry?" carried to him and he stopped again, breath caught in his throat.

Draco.

The knot of tension that had been coiled in his chest died, liberated into relief with just that one word. There was hope in Draco's tone and Harry's heart cried out in response.

The breath he held was released in a whoosh of air and a soft cry as he dropped his wand and forced his now shaky legs onwards. He saw Draco moving towards him and as he drew closer and was able to see his face, their eyes met and held. When they finally came together, they stopped mere inches apart, and stood still for a moment, Harry's heart thumping loudly in his chest as he searched Draco's face for answers.

Then, Draco smiled at him and most of Harry's questions were answered in the curve of his mouth and the dancing lights in his eyes. Harry gathered Draco up in his arms and kissed him so hard and for so long that when they broke away they were both sobbing and gasping for breath. He had one hand in Draco's hair and the other round his waist and he held on for dear life, lifting him from the ground and twirling in a dizzying circle of joy. Draco's hands were making a mockery of Harry's messy hair and he pressed his body close and neither of them could stop touching the other. Harry could hear whispered words, like '_you came back_ ' and '_you're alive_ ' that breathed life back into him as they kissed again, and he was sure that he replied with words like '_I promised I would_' and '_not leaving you again_' but they were mostly lost in the giddy haze of realised hope.

When they finally calmed down enough to breathe properly, Draco pulled back and smiled at Harry.

"You're back then?"

"I expected to find you in a skirt," Harry deadpanned for a moment before grinning at the shocked look on Draco's face.

"You read my diary, you bastard!" Draco punched him in the arm, face going pink in embarrassment.

"What did you expect? I return the conquering hero, only to find the girl not there!" Harry replied, still grinning and thinking that seeing Draco blush was such a pretty sight.

"I am NOT the girl, Potter. I thought I'd established that!" Draco pouted.

Harry shrugged and turned to walk back to the castle, keeping hold of Draco's hand and dragging him along. "I'm not the one fantasising about you in a skirt, Malfoy."

"That…that…" blustered Draco, as he followed reluctantly for a moment, then stopped suddenly. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Back to the castle."

"Oh."

"What were you burning out there anyway?" Harry said, continuing on his way to the castle. "You do realise that you could have alerted the wrong people to the fact that someone was at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, nothing much, just a rogue Death Eater," Draco replied. Harry stopped and turned to look at him in concern, not taken in by the forced casual sound of his voice. In the heady rush at seeing Draco, he had forgotten about Lucius.

"What happened?" he asked.

Draco shrugged, frowning and looked away, back at the still burning fire. "He tried to kill me, so I got to him first."

Draco didn't seem to want to give him any more information; perhaps he would later, Harry thought, so he pulled Draco into his arms.

"I'm so glad that you're alright," Harry whispered into his neck.

"Well," Draco admitted, "I was violently ill and I never plan on doing anything like that again, but it had to be done." Draco was silent for a long while, and Harry just held him, giving him what comfort he could.

Taking what sounded to Harry like a determined deep breath, Draco moved out of his arms and gave him a calculating look. Then, he turned and walked towards the castle, saying in a forceful tone, "Come on, Potter, I have a skirt to find and you have to get ready to ravish me."

Harry grinned and realised that life with Draco was never going to be dull.


End file.
